Things Can Only Get Better
by xX-Misty
Summary: It's the day of the 1997 General Election and Gene, Alex and the team must ensure that everything runs smoothly at the nearby polling stations. But threats of unrest pale into insignificance compared to the malicious intentions of Jim Keats as his power grows to extreme levels. With the world in up flames can anyone stop him or is this the end for Gene and the world around him?
1. Prologue: The X in the Box

**Prologue**

**Stupid o'clock, Thursday 1****st**** May 1997**

"Alright. This is the Cheshire cat's big day. We don't want anything wiping the smile off his face. Six polling stations under our remit. We've got to make sure every one of them is safe as houses. Safer than _Major's_ house, anyway. He's got a lot of packing to do tomorrow. Shoebury; you're head of _Team Blue_. Bols, _Team Red_. Dawson, you're _Team Yellow_."

"Great, I'm a streak of piss," Jake frowned, folding his arms.

"What about me?" asked Eddie.

Gene shrugged.

"Referendum party?" he suggested.

Eddie scowled.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled.

"You're on team blue with me." Simon told him.

"Sounds like sports day," Marci commented.

"Do we get medals at the end?" Bammo asked.

"Yes," Gene barked_, "I_ get a medal. For me incredible levels of patience in putting up with a bunch of twats and cheesebrains." He turned to Robin. "Batman, get back to yer doggy do-gooders; I want the polling stations to have one mutt a piece in place, noses primed. Get the buildings combed over before the voters come to stick an X in their box."

"And now Gene invents the face of modern gaming," Simon mumbled, folding his arms and leaning back.

Gene turned to Alex.

"My glamorous assistant here will now furnish you with a psychological profile of our friendly neighbourhood anarchist."

Alex stepped forward, a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Messages started three days ago," she began, "it started with a coded message in the classified ads in the Fenchurch Advertiser. Then there was a message over the air on Capital Radio. The DJ wasn't aware what was happening and unwittingly allowed the suspect on the air. Letters have been sent to three of the six polling stations in the area with a warning. There are signs that this campaign has been constructed with haste; the approach used suggests that the person we're looking for is fairly young, perhaps late teens. An email was sent from an academic establishment which suggests it may be a student but the facilities are open to members of the public so that might be a red herring. The campaign seems more in gear with actually scaring the voters _away_ from the booths rather than causing damage to those who turn out to vote so there is every likelihood that the threat is a bluff but we can't take any chances."

"The big boys are getting their kickers in a twist about this one," Gene told them, "want us to do our best to keep it out of the public domain so no loose lips."

"It's four o'clock on the morning," Terry yawned, "I can't put enough words together to tell anyone even if I wanted to."

"Alright then, sod off, the lot of you. Go and do yer bit for maintaining the integrity of the British electoral system."

"Where will you be, Guv?" asked Jake.

"I'll be arresting _D:Ream_ so that none of us have to listen to that soul-crushing song again," said Gene, "go on, bog off."

As the gathering dispersed Gene rubbed his forehead and gave a deep sigh. He'd only been back at work for a week or so and this was one of the biggest days of his career. After a decade and a half of Tory rule, new Labour looked to be in prime position to turn the country red. Months of scary posters of Tony Blair's eyes tinted red had failed to garner support for a party that had become increasingly unpopular. They grey man was surely out and the Cheshire Cat would be taking his place at Number 10.

Assurances from Alex, Simon and Robin that the threats would come to nothing because there had been so such explosion in the real world were little comfort. Sometimes things were just… _different_ in his world and he couldn't risk this being one of those times.

Besides, he'd had far too much fun assigning people to teams and leaving scary pictures of their assigned party leader on their desks to freak them the hell out.

He walked into his office and stared out of the window. It was a big day and a big night. _A brave new world._ By morning, everything would be different.

What he didn't realise was that the same applied to him, to his world, to his station and to every member of his team.

And in contrast to the words of _D:Ream_ there wasn't a hope in hell that things were going to get better.

~xXx~

Kim woke on the floor after a turbulent night, tossing and turning on the carpet, drained by her tears and her desperate sobbing. She awoke with a start in the early hours; a gasp on her lips and a jolt in her heart as the images she'd witnessed on the TV screen came back to her.

"_Oh ma'am,"_ she whispered, her eyes instantly filling with tears.

Her hands were trembling, She reached immediately for her unfinished glass of scotch, still sat beside her, and drank it down. She closed her eyes as she let out a sigh, the liquid stinging a little with its impact. It wasn't enough though. She could have taken a bath in the stuff and it wouldn't have been enough to get rid of the things she'd seen the night before.

Her heart still raced in fear as she remembered. She couldn't shake it. The images plagued her, they filled her head and made her want to scream and cry until the sounds of her sobbing made the walls cave in.

She felt so sick. She didn't know how to handle what she had seen, not whether to believe her eyes or the strange visions that played on the screen. She panted heavily. Her mind was a turbulent mess and so were her emotions, and it was still only 4 a.m.

She closed her eyes. She had to put it behind her. She'd been drinking too much, even she acknowledged that. She had to put it out of her head and get ready for work.

A valiant effort. A smart idea. But unfortunately one that disappeared with a _click_ as the TV switched itself back on.

It hadn't finished with her yet.

~xXx~

His anger swelled to hideous proportions. Nothing could rival it. The energy burned in the air, sparked off the walls, burned the world with its malevolence.

Jim Keats used to be a man, a very long time ago. Then he became a bitter and _twisted_ man. Then, thanks to the opposite energy that was born of Gene and his role, he became the devil in spectacles. And now?

Now he went beyond that. There was no humanity left in there, or if it was it was buried so deeply there was nowhere for it to escape from.

The switch had been flipped. The lid of the cage left open. The darkness had escaped and there was no pulling it back.

He'd tried to destroy Gene so many times, in so many clever and cunning ways, but his plans always failed because, like those preachy cartoons, the mouse always evades the cat. So this time the direct approach was the order of the day.

Flames burned through whatever passed for his soul.

They weren't the only fires that would be burning soon.

**~xXx~**

**7 am; Friday 2****nd**** May**

The approaching footsteps were so heavy and clunky that everyone in the office turned to look.

The buckles on the side of the black, leather boots rattled as the footsteps came closer and stopped halfway through the office. Her boots were dark. The clothes draped around her body were dark. But darkest of all was the look on her face. Every person in that office felt a shudder travel down their spine. Not one of them found the guts to open their mouth and ask who she was or what she was doing there. None of them knew her - but she seemed to know them.

The office stared on in silence for what felt like an ice age until finally a young DC named Michael Dillion got to his feet, swallowed nervously and asked;

"Can I help you?"

The darkest of stares turned onto him.

"No," she said.

Dillion looked at her nervously.

"Then," he began, "can I ask who you are?"

Her expression was cold and unemotional.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"You should at least tell us what you're here for," Dillion felt his anxiety rising as he spoke, "what is the purpose of your visit?"

She caught him in her glare; cold, hard. _Intense._ The corners of her mouth moved into something resembling a smile that somehow wasn't quite there as she delivered her answer; four words that changed the course of the world and those who thrived within it.

"_To fuck shit up,"_ was all she had to say.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I tried so, so hard not to give this the obvious title but in the end I realised it fitted in more ways than one so I just had to go with it and try to forgive myself for being cheesy :P**_

_**On a personal note I was really excited when my timeline got to 1997 because I have fond memories of the 1997 General Election and all the excitement surrounding it. At the time it really felt like everything was going to change for the better. We live and learn :P Things Can Only Get Better was the song adopted by New Labour for their campaign.**_

_**This fic follows on from Where Have All The Cowboys Gone? – the rating will change to M at some point. It's going to be dark, I'll say that from the outset. But please stick with it because, as always, eventually light makes right.**_

_**Things I don't own: Ashes to Ashes, Life On Mars and the 1997 General Election.**_

_**Things I do own: Simon's crocodile, the right to be horrible to Kim and Evan's dubious second career as a beard model.**_

_**Thank you in advance to everyone who reads; I'd love to hear your comments and reviews, and please make sure you don't spoil your ballot papers! *spills coffee on mine* DAMNIT!**_


	2. Chapter 1: The Unprovoked Attack

**Chapter 1**

Gene could liken his life to waiting all day for the match highlights while trying to avoid the scores.

It was one thing to shut yourself away from the world for a few hours so that no one could spoil the result for you before you watched the match on TV that night, but living with a number of people who had an insight into the future meant he spent most of the time avoiding spoilers; sporting or otherwise.

Things were much easier in the days when he didn't remember the nature of his world or the fact that he was dead. There would be the odd one or two 'floaters'… Sam, Alex… one at a time, now _that_ was manageable. And the _deny everything_ policy, even after he remembered, seemed to do the trick for the most part.

But quite suddenly a couple of years earlier the world seemed to have grown quite quickly. Maybe more coppers were having issues? Or more were going into comas. There were more and _more_ of them. Usually there would be one at a time, that was the rule, but by the latter part of 1995 there were three of the buggers, all in one go.

The world was expanding. That's why he needed help, he supposed. Having Alex working by his side for ten years had been a godsend. Aside from their personal relationship their professional one was second to none. Then with Simon's arrival the world had grown a little more. And now there was Robin, based in uniform. It was about time someone took the helm down there, Gene couldn't help but think.

But the thing that Alex, Simon and Robin had in common was that they all _knew_. And they all had a grasp of the future. Which meant that it was easy to let things slip about what was coming up, the next day, the next month, the next year. Even Gene himself had a little insight after his strange coma world but his limit was the pasty tax and how to Rickroll an unsuspecting schmuck. Everyone else had far more interesting information.

_"I don't want to know!"_ Gene clamped his hands over his ears as he tried to avoid the definitive answer about who would come out on top in the general election. Yes, the opinion polls and his gut instinct said the country was going to turn redder than Simon's face after he suffered his trouser tents going back a way but he still didn't want to be told for certain.

At least this wasn't as bad as Euro '96, he thought to himself. He'd initially been pleased to discover that Simon was a football fan but suddenly the whole tournament became one long quest to avoid getting the results spoiled. He would walk back and forth in the corridors past Simon with his hands over his ears.

_"Don't want to know, Shoebury!"_

And then it reached a point where he could tell who was going to win a match by Shoebury's temperament that day.

Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Were all sporting events – not to mention world events – going to be spoilt for him by a troop of future-dwellers? He groaned as he thought about it. Hazards of the job, he supposed.

He pulled the keys to his car from his pocket and gave his walking stick a shove to one side before he left the office. He knew he was supposed to keep using it as long as necessary and he knew that he would be slower and far less steady without it but he couldn't bear to be seen with it any longer. It was taking away from his reputation. He was the Manc Lion and the Manc Lion did not need a poncey stick to keep him on his feet.

What the Manc Lion _did_ need, however, was to get going before the voters started turning out and queuing up outside the doors of the polling stations.

His walk through the station and down to the car park was slow and awkward and a few times he regretted leaving his stick behind but when he strode outside into the fresh air, taking his steps by himself, he felt empowered. His injury had taken a few things from him, including some of his motility. It had taken half his hair as well. It was taking time to grow back and he didn't feel like himself with his more-or-less cropped locks. Heaven help him if he ever went bald.

The fact that he'd come so seemingly close to losing his life had shaken him up a bit. He'd thought that he was indestructible, that was the way of his world, after all. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps things were changing more than he'd realised. That was worrying. He couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with a certain bespectacled DCI at a rival station.

Since his confrontation with Alex in the car park Keats had been suspiciously quiet. While Alex had spent days expecting him to appear when she was least expecting it with another 'persuasion technique' to force her to stop Gene from giving evidence against him he seemed to have more or less disappeared off the face of the earth. After finding out that he no longer had anything to lord over Alex he knew he'd lost his chance to force the outcome he wanted from her.

But it was her parting words that had stung him to the bone. Reminding him that all his sexual conquests has been thanks to pills or gas and air; that he'd never been able to feel the love and warmth of someone who wanted him, and seeing Alex and Kim enjoying a little more than a night in front of the TV together had set off a chain reaction of fury inside of him. All the energy and the power he'd been absorbing had hit a high that he couldn't supress and although he was now able to control it without it controlling _him_ his rage had struck its peak and this time there was no reining it in.

There were fires burning. And to those who knew him, his silence was more daunting than seeing him in plain sight.

But right then Gene couldn't worry about Jimbo and whether he was aiming a gun in his direction or crooning to _All By Myself_ over a glass of sherry. It was an important day and he needed to focus. With the Cheshire Cat and the Little Grey Man battling it out for supremacy Jimbo was the last of his worries.

He didn't even realise at first. His mind was working its way through 101 different scenarios for getting some alone time with Alex in one of the polling booths later that morning but before he had a chance to unlock his car he noticed them:

His tyres. _Slashed_. All four of them.

He stepped back. He stared. He slowly walked around the vehicle, checking and double checking each wheel at a time as though he couldn't quite believe that someone would do that, to _him_, to his _car_. To his precious car; the only thing that ranked in his life almost as highly as Alex. It even came above scotch and lattes in his list of priorities.

"Knife-wielding _bastards!"_ he cried as he dropped to his knees and poked at the deep gouges like he was examining the torso of a murder victim. "The tossing arseholes!" His outraged eyes turned from the car to the station and back again as he staggered to his feet. His car! His bloody _car!_ His pride and joy!

He struggled for a moment to work out what to do first. Should he go back to the station and demand the security footage to see who'd done such a thing? Should he try to catch Alex before she set off so that he'd at least have someone to ride with – and to rant to about his terrible sense of loss? Should he just stand where he was, swearing his head off in the blind belief that it would somehow make his tyres heal and his car driveable again?

He chose the last of the three options first. Standing in the middle of the car park, swearing his head off like some kind of foul-mouhed comedian doing some performance art, he let forth an angry tirade but alas his tyres remained shredded and his anger levels only increased.

"Bollocks," he said eventually, his hands angrily on his hips and his lips pursed with fury.

He wanted to get the footage. He wanted to find out exactly who had maimed his beauty but there wasn't time.

"Don't worry, I'll be back," he told his car with a reassuring pat to the bonnet, "I'll catch the arseface that did this. And I'll give you first option on running over their bloody toes."

Reluctantly he left his car and began to slouch away to find Alex and try to get his mind back on the main matter of the day. It was time to make sure the voters got their crosses on their forms safely.

And then he just might have to have a word with his MP about extra security for car parks in the immediate area.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Sorry this chapter was on the short side, just felt things needed a brief recap, and also I've been distracted... The next chapter will be up in the next couple of days, I want to get my other fics updated by the end of the week as well :)**_


	3. Chapter 2: Team Blue

**Chapter 2**

"Eddie, you've been promoted to Team Red."

Eddie looked up in surprise at Robin as he held open the car door and addressed him while Simon just watched in confusion.

"How is that a promotion?" Eddie asked.

"At last you know your team will be lording it up in number ten tonight," said Robin, "Team Blue's going to get pissed in despair and start singing _Show Me The Way To Go Home."_

Eddie hesitated. He wasn't in the mood for an all-day, non-stop journey of political chaos and Simon was about the only person who wouldn't have either driven him up the wall or given him black-eyes but when a Police Chief Inspector tells a DC to get out of that seat then there's not much the DC can do about it, especially not when he knows there was a dog that's been accidentally trained to sniff out dirty socks and he hasn't changed his in three days.

"Fine," he groaned, flopping crossly out of the car and making his way across the car park to find Team Red.

Simon stared at Robin in confusion as he jumped into the seat.

"Uh," he blinked, trying to work out what was going on, "Rob? Aren't you supposed to be accompanying your smelly batch of canines on a tour of the polling stations?"

"You have _so_ much respect for them," Robin commented.

Simon didn't know what was going on but there was a look on Robin's face that he was finding difficult to ignore, He hesitated as he tried to work out what to say but in the end he could only come straight out and ask,

"What's the matter?"

"Who says anything's the matter?" Robin asked stiffly, "Just though I'd ride with you, that's all."

"Terry will be jumping in the backseat with a batch of water balloons any minute now," Simon warned him.

"I've got an umbrella."

"That wasn't what I meant," Simon hesitated; "if you need to talk about something…" he took a chance. There was a certain look on Robin's face and it wasn't one he'd seen in a long time.

Things had been phenomenally difficult between them after Robin arrived with a new ring on his finger. Simon had almost completely self-destructed over it. Thanks to Robin's actions on the roof and the counselling he'd been receiving since he was starting to slowly accept that he and Robin were no longer together and was making a real effort to help their bond change into something new; gaining friendship from love. He hadn't seen a look so troubled on Robin's face for a long time. "Tell me, Rob. I can't help you if you won't talk to me."

Robin hesitated. He kept his eyes fixed on some random point on the dashboard as he finally said,

"It's never happened before, Simon."

"What hasn't?" Simon asked.

"I had a weird… _feeling,"_ Robin's voice was strained and Simon hesitated.

"You should see a doctor about that," he warned, "You might need antibiotics."

Robin gave a slightly angry tut but finally looked in Simon's direction.

"There's this guy. In my department," he swallowed as he found it hard to express, "I just walked past him. And I could see it, and feel it." He saw Simon looking at him blankly, "David Arbour, his name is. I don't know him that well. Keeps himself to himself. Doesn't really socialise, doesn't participate as much as he should. I only went to assign him to a polling station and I saw him lying there, blood trickling from his mouth, the injuries from a fall." He swallowed. "From _the_ fall. The one that –" he choked, "_killed him."_ He could see that Simon finally understood as his eyes turned downward and he gave a slow nod. "It's never happened before, Si. I didn't know what to do. I suddenly felt it. That… _cold_ sensation. Like I was the dead one." He shuddered, "I mean, I know I _am_, but…"

"I know, I know," Simon said gently. He felt his guts starting to churn as he remembered the first time he'd caught a sense of someone's old life and their death. It had been Lindsay; so bright and full of life and yet he'd felt it; her dead, still, lifeless body on the other side as her soul travelled to live out its days in another world. "I'm sorry, Rob. It's not nice. It's really..." he paused and sighed, staring at Robin's lost expression. "Are you OK?"

Robin looked down at his hands.

"I wish someone had warned me that was going to happen," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Rob." Simon nodded, "I suppose it's so rare that someone… _joins_… the way you did. Or _I_ did. We didn't think…" he sighed. "It's not nice, I know. It's bloody horrible," he shook his head, "Gene… well, I think he's learnt to control it over the years. He can stop it from happening or at least block it out to a degree where it doesn't affect him. Alex must be able to do the same. But they've had years. This is your first time. I've been here a year and I'm still struggling." He found himself reaching out to lay a hand on Robin's arm for comfort, "I'm sorry, it's painful and disturbing, so if you want to talk…" he gave Robin a slightly anxious smile, "that's why I'm here."

Robin's smile was sad and strained.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"You'll get used to it," Simon told him quietly, "It's not nice and it's never going to be, but you'll get used to it."

"I'm not sure I want to," Robin said quietly, "I've never felt so disturbed in all my life, I don't want to keep feeling this way."

Simon wished he could offer more comfort.

"Now you can see why I went crazy," he said.

"Oh, don't even joke about that," Robin still felt sick when he thought about Simon on the roof and the shock tactics he'd used to stop him from taking his own life. Simon looked away. He supposed he shouldn't have said that.

"But seriously, Rob," he said quietly, "it was a part of why I got so low. Being apart from you… then finding you'd moved on… and all the stuff with Gene… that was the bulk of it but for over a year I'd had all that other stuff to deal with. And I couldn't really talk about it because Gene and Alex had been though it so many times that it was like water off a duck's back to them. They couldn't understand why it was affecting me so much. But we're both kind of… _newbies_ to the whole thing. I've got a year's advantage on you but we're still both learning."

Robin nodded slowly.

"I have a lot to learn yet," he said with a sigh.

"So let's make a deal," said Simon, "any time this weird shit happens, we talk to each other. Right?"

Robin gave a slow nod and smiled gratefully at Simon.

"It's a deal," he said.

"Good," said Simon.

They exchanged a slightly awkward smile before they both looked away. Simon felt slightly nervous that Robin had actually sought him out to confide in him and ask for his advice. After the terribly turbulent times that had gone on between them it was difficult finding a balance especially since he still couldn't help jumping to conclusions every time Robin showed him the hand of friendship. How could see that Robin was still troubled though. There was something else there, something that he hadn't talked about yet. "Rob?" he began, "is there something else?" He knew full well that there was, but Robin seemed reluctant to open up. "What is it? I'm not going to fling myself off the station roof if that's what you're worried about,"

_"Simon!"_ Robin cried.

"At least that got you moving said Simon, "thought someone had frozen you to the spot." He looked at him with concern. "Come on, Robin. Talk to me."

Robin looked down. He knew that Simon was the last person h should be talking to about this, But his heart was so heavy that he thought he was going to sink.

"It was Kim's birthday four days ago," he whispered. He saw Simon tense up visibly beside him and immediately regretted saying a word. "I'm sorry, Simon. I'll go. I'll call Eddie back -" he opened the door to get out of the car but Simon grasped his sleeve and pulled him back.

"No, Rob, wait," he said quickly, "I-I know how I've behaved… I'm trying…. Please talk to me."

"You have enough on your plate," Robin said awkwardly, feeling guilty about even bringing it up.

"I still have an ear and a shoulder," he said.

"Not your favourite topic though, is it?" Robin said awkwardly.

Simon sighed and shook his head.

"So tomorrow I'll go and rant at my bloody therapist for an hour; today's _your_ turn to rant at _me_." He looked at his devastated expression. "Was it… would it have been her first birthday since you…"

Robin nodded slowly. He couldn't look at Simon. He felt bad enough talking about this. But who else was he going to turn to?

"I had big plans, Simon," he said quietly, "I mean, I don't know how much I would have been able to do. I… my body… back in the real world," he closed his eyes "I was still in a lot of pain and couldn't walk that well," he regarded his legs as he mused, "It's funny how much of your body gets fixed when you come over here."

"I'm really sorry," Simon said quietly. He felt guilty. He knew Kim's birthday was at the end of April but hadn't even realised it had passed. She'd been his best friend for so long and he hadn't even marked it. He knew he had enough going on in his own life but he still should have thought about it. "I'm sorry you didn't get to be there for her. And I'm sorry you didn't get to do all the things you'd planned to."

Robin looked down.

"What did she do for her last birthday here?" he asked, "she did have a birthday, didn't she?"

Simon nodded.

"Not that long before she went home," he said quietly, "I don't really remember much of it. I think there was a small brewery consumed."

Robin gave a distant smile.

"That'd be about right," he said quietly.

Simon looked at him. He still felt a little resentment for the way things had happened but his counselling was helping him to seer things from Robin's point of view too. Even though his psychologist didn't know the full truth of the situation with death and life playing such a vital role it had helped him to understand how come Robin had been able to move on while Simon stayed right where he was. He also knew that it was hitting rock bottom that had spurred _Robin_ on to take control of his life. Now that Simon had done the same he was beginning on the same path, slowly but surely.

"I know that I haven't been very fair," he said quietly, "I've said some fucking horrible things that I didn't mean." He saw Robin turned to him, looking surprised. "That's right, I didn't mean them. Of course I don't think that way about Kim, Rob. She was my best friend. I was angry." He looked down. "I still am," he admitted.

"I know," Robin whispered, "I'm sorry."

"But being angry was no excuse for the way I behaved " Simon admitted, "Rob, I want you to be happy. And seeing you hurting the way I've been hurting…" he sighed and shook his head. "It feels like such a waste. If you at least were still with her then us… not being together… wouldn't be in vain. But the fact that you don't have her either…."

Robin looked at him in surprise.

"Isn't this usually the part where you try to convince me we should be together again?" he asked.

Simon gave a tiny smile.

"No," he whispered, "I can see that now." It stung his heart to admit it, "we've both changed too much." He reached out and squeezed Robin's hand. "But we should be friends. Really fucking good friends." He gave Robin a nervous smile, almost blushing in a strange way. "And friends talk to each other. So any time you're feeling like this," he nodded, "talk."

Robin hesitated, then slowly he nodded back.

"Alright," he whispered, "I will. I promise." His smile was nervous but he started slowly to relax. "And the same goes for you, Si. You can always talk to me. You know that."

"Why would I need to talk to you when I have a psychologist who charges me an extortionate rate for the pleasure?" Simon teased, coaxing a smile from Robin.

"I mean it, Si," Robin told him, "You know I do."

"No offence, Rob, but I think that might be a little awkward, Simon said quietly with a tiny smile, "it's hard enough talking to a woman whose son shares your name, let alone talking to the real thing." He took a deep breath. "But one day." He paused. "We're getting there. Right?"

Robin hesitated, then slowly nodded.

"Right." He said with a little determination.

The back door opened and Terry threw himself in, a stack of water balloons in his arms.

"Got them," he said happily.

"Shit, I thought you were kidding about that," Robin turned to Simon with a slightly horrified glare.

"Well? You were the one who said you had an umbrella," Simon raised an eyebrow.

"I've changed my mind," Robin went to open the door, "I'm going with the dogs."

"If I have to dodge the damn things you're coming with me," Simon told him as he quickly stared the car and pulled out of the car park before Robin could make a fast escape.

He tried not to laugh at Robin shouting and swearing as one of the waterlogged items hurled itself in his direction and realised that the seemingly impossible was actually happening. A friendship was starting to grow. It would take time and it wouldn't be straight forward but they were getting there. Simon never wanted to lose Robin, whatever the connection. He hoped that this marked a new start for the pair of them. The thought that they might be able to salvage a friendship between them gave him a grin of Tony Blair proportions.


	4. Chapter 3: Team Red

**Chapter 3**

"Oi. Eddie. Consider yourself demoted to team Yellow."

Eddie looked somewhat pissed off as he stared at Gene's bulk looming in the door of the car.

"But I only just got promoted from Team Blue!" he cried.

"That's politics for you," Gene told him, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the car park,_ "out."_

Eddie hesitated for a moment, then gave a scowl before climbing out of the car, grumbling all the way about party leaders and where he was planning to stick a ballot box. Gene planted his backside heavily in the seat with a sigh and glanced around at the two bozos in the back. Alex did not agree with his assessment of the two figures being bozos. They might not have been the sharpest tools in the box but they weren't that bad. She suspected Gene was simply down on them because initially they'd been assigned to him before she had returned to the world.

DCs Lorna Bridges and Luke McDonald had settled in well to life at Fenchurch East. Alex didn't really know them very well yet. It still hadn't been all that long since her return and only a short time after that Gene had been attacked and she spent a lot of time away from work to take care of him. But now she was finally starting to get to know them and they seemed nice enough. They weren't especially outgoing; they didn't enjoy the 90s club scene like Jake and Marci, they preferred a quiet drink and a bite to eat at the local Chinese restaurant to getting their ears blasted by nineties culture, but they were friendly and eager which counted for a great deal.

Whatever they enjoyed doing of an evening Gene didn't really want them earwigging into his conversation so he pulled a tenner from his pocket and handed it to Lorna over his shoulder.

"Here," he mumbled, "do something useful. Get a batch of highly caffeinated refreshments from the Cheshire Cat team. Take yer bookend with you."

Alex raised an eyebrow at him curiously as the two young detectives left the confines of the car. She rested her head on one hand as she said,

"I hope this isn't your version of sending the kids to the pictures so we can get some quality alone time in this car. And I've already told you, we're not doing it in your Aston Martin either."

"Not going to be doing any _driving_ in it either," Gene said crossly. He saw Alex looking at him curiously, "some bastard slashed me tyres," he enlarged, too angry to even come up with a witty description for the incident.

Alex saw his angry expression and gave a sympathetic sigh.

"Oh Gene," she said, "I'm sorry. Do you know who –"

"Didn't have time to find out," Gene told her, "I'll radio plod while we're on our way."

"Our way?" Alex repeated.

"You don't expect me to skateboard to the bloody polling stations, do you?" Gene demanded.

Alex held up her palm.

"No, not at all, "she said with a slight smile, "I just think it's funny, that's all."

"John Major's speech about intending to win?"

"You, in the passenger seat. How many years have we been together: I don't think I've once seen you in that position. Not unless you were at death's door."

"Which brings me to me second point," said Gene, "shift yerself over."

"No way," Alex made sure her backside was parked as heavily as it could be, "I've warmed this seat up now!"

"Well _this_ one's warm too."

"And I know '_shift yourself over',"_ Alex said accusingly, "I got a gearstick up my backside the last time I tried."

"That wasn't necessarily a gearstick…" Gene began but Alex cut him off.

"I thought you were supposed to be touring the area anyway. I'm sticking to the same two stations."

"Might have to borrow yer wheels."

"Go and get a pool car."

"Don't want me Aston Martin to think I'm cheating on her," Gene said haughtily.

"You'll go forward in time and _bonk_ another me but you won't drive another car?"

"Sensitive creature, the Aston Martin," said Gene, but inside he gave a sigh, His car was very flashy. It was fast, sleek and gave half the station a severe case of envy. But there was something missing. He wasn't sure what it was, but he just hadn't bonded with the car the same way as he had with the Quattro or the Merc or the Fiat. Perhaps it was because of his tragic, sudden loss from when the Fiat took leave from his world, vanishing from the car park the way that it did. Maybe he was still grieving.

"Well if you're coming with me keep the Cheshire Cat jokes to yourself," Alex warned him, "I've been listening to them for the last two weeks, day and night. I'm starting to forget this is a General Election, I keep thinking I'm about to chase a rabbit down a hole and go to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party."

"Not unless he's serving lattes," said Gene.

Alex looked at him seriously.

"Gene?"

"What?"

Alex hesitated, She knew she was about to offend him but she had to ask.

"How are you coping?"

"_Cope_ is not a word in the Gene Genie's vocabulary" Gene told her.

"I didn't think 'vocabulary' was in it either," Alex raised an eyebrow.

"The Gene Genie does not 'cope'," he continued, "the Gene Genie _survives_. The Gene Genie _thrives."_

"The Gene Genie needs to stop referring to himself in the third person," Alex raised an eyebrow but couldn't resist a smile,

For what it was worth she didn't care who drove, what jokes Gene made or whether or not she received a gearstick up the arse. The thought that Gene might be accompanying her for the day was a very pleasant one that warmed her inside. They were rarely able to work together directly these days and when they did she loved every moment. It was like a blast from the past. She still missed being his DI sometimes. While she loved her own post she would never forget the partnership they used to have at work and getting to indulge in it fir the day was just what she needed.

~xXx~

Kim genuinely thought her heart was about to seize up as the television switched on with a click. She stood there, waiting for the picture to appear, her mouth hung open, both through shock and fear. She had no idea what she was about to see but if the previous night was anything to go by then it wouldn't be good.

Nervously she swallowed as the darkness cleared and a crackly picture began. She stood there with her eyes fixed on the screen, trying to make sense of it, but it was impossible. She couldn't work out what she was supposed to be looking at. She heard a noise like a champagne cork and the chattering of excitable people but the picture was still a blurry mess of sparklies. It began to clear a little, just enough for her to see the movement of bodies. What was going on? She saw figures gathered around a TV set of their own.

_"...seat goes to the Labour party candidate…"_ a muffled voice said.

"_What's going on?"_ Kim whispered. She could feel herself trembling again and this time it wasn't through the need to fill her veins with alcohol. She took a cautious step towards the screen and peered closer to attempt to see something beyond the fuzz and the crackle. She could see desks and what looked like an office. A _familiar_ office at that. Just as she was trying to work out what was happening an enormous bolt of static made her reel back and gasp, her heart pounding away.

"What the fuck?" she cried, relieved no one was around to see her behaving like a complete coward. She swiftly launched forward and switched the television off at the stand-by button before she drew back against the wall, breathing heavily, trying to settle her nerves.

_Come on, Kim, stop being a bloody chicken. It's gone now. Just a malfunction. Need a new TV probably, that's all._

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, feeling her pulse starting to go back to normal, little by little. When she finally opened her eyes the only thing she could see was the bottle of scotch. _One more_. She'd have one more glass and then she'd get ready for work, bury herself in all the stupid Olympic security bollocks and forget all about what she had seen.

She reached for the bottle and began to pour out a large measure with shaking hands but the glass was only half full when she heard a plip and the TV was on once again. She turned around, glass in hand, her heart speeding up. This time the action on the screen was far from celebratory. There was screaming; she could hear voices crying out in fear and pain. The crackle of fire came clearly through the speakers event though the picture was fuzzy and dark.

"_What the fuck –?"_ she whispered as she took a step towards the screen.

There were faces; tormented faces, people screaming and crying as flame licked around them. To begin with the picture was so unclear she couldn't really work out what or who she was looking at but then the screen cleared enough for her to get a better view. There was a woman; it looked like… well, _ridiculously_ it looked like Scary Spice, unconscious on the floor. What _was_ this? Some kind of rejected Spice Girls action movie?

As she watched, someone lifted the floppy, still body up and hoisted her over their shoulder before the static fell again and a new scene appeared. Sill the crackle of fire could be heard and flames were licking around the corners of the screen as another face lay lifelessly on the floor; burns to his skin, smoke filling his lungs and rendering him unconscious.

She knew who it was. She recognised him immediately. It was someone she knew oh so well.

_"Oh my god –"_

Her glass dropped to the ground and smashed into myriad sparkling shards while the liquid splashed across the floor and her hand rose to her mouth. She panted for air as though the heat and the smoke from the screen were filling her own lungs, staring upon the face of someone who she'd once been so close to as the fire encroached and threatened to engulf his body.

"Oh fuck, _no…"_ she began to back away _"No, no, no…"_

With a deafening fizz and another crackle of static the picture changed again; this time it seemed to be an outside shot as blue lights and sirens raged while two paramedics carried a stretcher into the back of an ambulance. She strained to see who was strapped to it, their face blackened from smoke but she couldn't see at first. It wasn't until a moment later that she could tell who she was and the horrified gasp that leapt into her throat almost choked her to death.

_"Fuck, no,"_ she breathed, sobbing as the scene changed one last time.

The sound of wood striking skull as a figure succumbed to a blow from what appeared to be a baseball bat sickened her as she watched the person drop to the ground. As blood smothered his dark hair and began to pool on the ground, she pushed her hands to her mouth and ran… ran out of the room, ran right to the bathroom where she hunched over the toilet bowl and let forth with whatever contents remained in her stomach. She gagged and coughed, choking on the horror of what she'd seen. It was too much to take, _far_ too much. She couldn't remember feeling so much fear before in her life.

She wiped her mouth roughly on her sleeve and leaned back against the wall as hot, angry tears fell from her sore, red eyes.

"No," she cried, "This can't happen! Please… please, someone – tell me what to do. How can I change this? How can I stop it from _happening?"_

But as she cried and screamed the cold tiled bathroom walls bore no answers. All alone in the world, no one to turn to, Kim sank to her knees and cried until she didn't have a tear left in her body. She had never felt so helpless in all of her life.

**~xXx~**

_**A/N: Sorry Kim. You were supposed to have no angst for another few chapters. But I'm pissed off. And when I'm pissed off, you get tortured. And I already tortured you yesterday afternoon in Strange Little Girl, so now I just need to torture you in All Good Things and Closer Than Close and then you'll be angsting in all 4 fics simultaneously. Sorry…**_

_**You see? See what happens when I'm pissed off? KIM SUFFERS! Make me cry and Kim gets horrible things coming her way. Make me smile and Kim will be happy. It's not rocket science!**_

_**Look at her poor, tearful face. Look at it! Does she deserve this? OK, so she's not real so you can't *actually* look at her, you'll just have to imagine in your head, but never the less, Poor Kim…**_


	5. Chapter 4: Team Yellow

**Chapter 4**

"I have no idea where this first place even is," Jake unravelled the map across the dashboard and managed to cover himself and Marci in the process.

"If I wanted a tent with a detailed plan of London printed on the outside I'd commission one," Marci said crossly, flapping the map away.

Jake managed to find the part he was looking for and folded the map to that only the right part was showing and Marci wasn't wearing half if London over her head.

"Do you think these threats are going to come to anything?" he asked.

Marci shrugged.

"DCI Drake didn't seem all that worried," she said, "I think I'll trust her judgement.

"I'll just be glad when today is over and we never have to see those bloody Tony Blair devil's eyes again," he told her, throwing the map onto the dashboard and turning the key in the ignition.

Jake and Marci had settled in well to life at Fenchurch East. They were both outgoing in a lot of ways and came to know many of their colleagues socially as well as professionally, perhaps a little too much in Marci's case. She still wasn't sure how she had ended up in bed with Eddie, nor was she all that happy about it. She knew there had been a lot of alcohol involved, and also a lot of guilt she felt about a mistaken slap. She still wasn't sure how come she had given into his constant advances though. It was something she hadn't repeated since, nor was she planning to.

Things hadn't exactly been civil between them. Despite Eddie fully believing that he'd found a mate for life Marci's disapproval of the '_You're Welcome'_ message left for her the morning after and the mess he made of the breakfast table before she even got up had led to her avoiding him like the plague.

Unfortunately for her, the plague was currently getting in the car.

"Err, what do you think you're doing?" she cried.

Eddie knew that Marci wasn't going to be pleased to see him. This wasn't news to him. He supposed much of that was his own fault. Leaving little reminders of his assumed prowess had perhaps not been the best idea. Neither had mixing up the toast with the cornflakes.

But he genuinely liked Marci. While he'd spent the first six months of his time in Gene's world assuming that he was in a vivid dream and could wish someone's clothes off at will he'd finally settled down. His main distraction was the thought of getting his end away though. He would try it on with just about anything with boobs, with the possible exception of the woman in the canteen with the big backside and that was mostly because he didn't want her to thwack him over the head with her ladle.

But in Marci he'd seen something different and he wished she would give him a chance. Unfortunately leaving her a self-portrait and telling her she was welcome the night after he'd finally found his way into her bed hadn't been the best idea of his life.

"I've been bumped from the blue team," he said awkwardly, "_and_ the red team."

"You can't come with _us,"_ Marci cried in horror.

"I don't have a choice" Eddie protested.

"Can't you go be the Green Party or something?"

"Hunt told me I'm on team yellow."

"You're on team _Arsehole,"_ Marci told him."

"_Marci!" _Jake cried.

"_You didn't see the self-portrait!" _cried Marci.

"I said I was sorry about that…"

"Or all the graffiti in the toilets…."

"That wasn't _all_ down to me…"

"_Or_ the picture of DCI Hunt he'd drawn on my back with eyeliner," Marci scowled, "I didn't find it for two days."

"Can we just get moving?" Jake sighed, "if Eddie's coming with us then he's coming with us. Stand at opposite ends of the polling station or something. Pretend you have opposing political opinions."

"We do," Marci said crossly, "He wants to stick his X in my box but as far as I'm concerned his ballot paper was spoilt the day he scrawled '_you're welcome'_ across it!"

Jake sighed and started the car. If the rest of the day was going to follow along the same lines then he was going to need some earplugs and paracetamol – or at the very least a transfer to another team.

~xXx~

Keats closed the door carefully behind him and turned around. He was glad that most of the station was too scared of the basement to go digging around. And quite right too. It gave him time to work in his plan without interruptions.

It had all come together for him. While the charges Gene had brought against him for assaulting Victoria Stone still loomed over his head he had a very strong feeling that Gene was never going to have the opportunity to take the witness stand.

A combination of the extra energy he'd drawn from Robin, memories from someone whose body he'd accidentally inhabited in 2011 and the opportunity of the general election had led to the perfect plan coming together.

He walked slowly to the desk in the middle of the room and allowed his fingers to play around the material covering the box. He'd spent many happy hours down in the basement in recent times. Putting his plan together, shutting himself away from a station with whom he was becoming increasingly bored. He found he had little interest in his '_by the book'_ approach now. The police work would just go and screw itself. He had bigger fish to fry. CID could just run itself, or implode for all he cared. Fenchurch _East_ was of far more interest to him, or at the very least its demise was.

It was about time too. He'd messed around for long enough. No more waiting on the side-lines for an opportunity. He was going to jump in with both feet and destroy it all; wipe out the world from underneath Gene's feet. Because when it came down to it, once the main players were taken out he would have everything. There was no one to stop him or challenge him. He was all-powerful at Fenchurch West already. Now he was a stone's throw away from taking the other side as well.

It was the perfect day for it. The perfect _night._ Perfect timing all round. And things really _could_ only get better as far as Keats was concerned.

~xXx~

Kim splashed more water onto her face and grabbed a towel to dry herself quickly. She wiped the droplets from her eyes and opened them slowly. As she stared in the mirror her eyes still had a reddish hue, more from the crying she'd done the previous night than anything. But her face was clean and fresh and this was about as presentable as she was going to get.

As hard as it would be she had to block the things she'd seen out of her mind. They couldn't have been real, they just _couldn't_ have been. They were a figment of her imagination. She was fairly sure of that. There was no way she could be seeing things from the other side, let alone anything as heart-wrenching as what she thought she had seen.

She dried her hands and threw the towel to the floor. She thought idly how Robin would have a fit of he saw the state of the place. But he was never going to see it. He was dead and buried, far away on the other side, out of reach, beyond her touch.

She stared once again in the mirror and fixed her expression, making it cold, hard, unfeeling. She had to get to work. Work was all she had now, after all. If she lost that she'd have nothing. It was an important day, handling the crowds as the Olympic flame passed by, carried by famed Beard Model Evan White. She hoped he'd set fire to that bloody beard. And if he mentioned _one thing_ about that bloody book then he was going to be wearing the Olympic torch like some kind of highly uncomfortable facial piercing.

Feeling dead inside, she turned and left the bathroom, slipped the keys to the Fiat in her pocket and zipped up her boots.

She was ready to face the day. There was a flask of scotch in her pocket, after all. For what it was worth, she might as well have changed her name to Gene and been done with it.

~xXx~

"…Black… cream interior… Bloody sexy." Gene paused as the crackly voice on the radio tried to argue with him. "I want that put out in the description!" he insisted, "One bloody sexy Aston Martin, brutally attacked!" He had no time for arguing as the voice tried to talk him out of it. "Just get the sodding footage and get back to me when you can give me a description of the shit-arsed idiot who's going to be wearing me fist in their gob for the next seven years," he said and threw down the radio.

"I'm starting to get quite the complex," Alex teased as she looked at him sideways, "if you'd rather sleep with the car than me that can be arranged."

The two bozos in the back, as Gene so fondly thought of them, stared on in shock that their DCI had said such a thing.

"Oh, close yer traps, it's not a bloody goldfish bowl," Gene admonished them, "sometimes grownups talk about shoving their body parts in each other's 'oles. Get used to it."

"I didn't quite put it in those terms, Gene, thank you very much," Alex frowned.

The radio crackled and Gene felt a shudder travel down his spine. Was this it? Was there news of his car?

"Speak to me; do we have a description?" he demanded.

There was a pause.

_"Uh, sorry, no, Guv,"_ the voice on the line said, "_it's not about your car."_

Gene sighed.

"It had better be bloody important then, he said.

"_It is, guv. There's a disturbance broken out at Fieldstreet School."_

"That's the second polling station," Alex told Gene, "we were supposed to be going there in an hour from now."

Gene thought for a second then barked into the radio,

"Define '_disturbance'_. Someone broken in and nicked a Bunsen burner?"

_"Broken a nose more like,"_ the voice told him, _"a fight started in the crowd queuing up to vote. Someone's got a Conservative banner up their backside."_

Gene rolled his eyes.

"Lord give me strength," he sighed as Alex began to turn the car around. The tyres gave a satisfying squeal as she set off in the opposite direction. "Blimey," Gene looked at her, his eyebrows raised, "I've taught you well."

"Who's the sexy one now?" she asked.

"_You_ are, can't say the same for yer car," Gene told her, "not with the fluffy dice and the _I've Been To Bognor_ sticker."

"it's a pool car, I can't help that," Alex sighed as she concentrated on the road ahead.

"I wouldn't mind but you've never even _been_ to bloody Bognor."

"So sue me under the trades descriptions act," Alex muttered, "shut up and let me concentrate on driving like a maniac."

_"Oi,"_ frowned Gene, "I thought you were supposed to be driving like me?"

"My whole point in a nutshell," Alex told him politely as she began to increase her speed.

Gene couldn't help but smirk. Alex was more like him than _he_ was these days, He'd rubbed off on her in a number of ways. They'd changed each other; balanced one another out, and over so many years. They'd always been unbreakable but now they were almost two halves of the same person. And that was a damn fine thought.

"You alright, Guv?" Alex asked, one eyebrow raised, "you might be on Team Red but you look like you're joining the Green party."

Gene was a little out of practice with the high-speed driving and the erratic steering. He'd been off work for so long with his injury that it was taking some getting used to. But at least he was on the road to recovery and _had_ the opportunity to get used to it again.

"Just get team red to its destination," He told her, "before someone ends up doing a ruddy technicoloured yawn."

Alex smiled. It was just like the old days.

"Yes, guv," she said with a smile.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Sorry. Crappy chapter. I'm blitzed on pain meds at the moment and words aren't forming coherent sentences. Feeling low, could do with some love. or some arse-wiggles. Reviews are very gratefully received. Thank you x x**_


	6. Chapter 5: BallotBox Head

**Chapter 5**

By the time Alex, Gene and the two bozos arrived at the polling station things had already escalated. Someone already had a ballot box jammed over their head which had been beaten so severely by someone with an _I Love John Major_ placard that it was all out of shape and resembled a very poorly constructed Kryten head.

"Should have sent Shoebury," Gene muttered as he began to pick up speed, moving as fast as his strengthening legs would allow. "Alright, that's enough political unrest for one day, Ballot Brains." He gripped the man with the box on his head with one arm and tried to remove the ballot box with the other as though trying to pull off a motorcycle helmet.

"_Mmmmpff-mppffff-mmmmpfffff,"_ the man beneath the box told him.

"Save it for yer interview," Gene told him, "I don't have enough time to take down yer statement and work out how many '_m's_ you're spelling that with!"

Alex took hold of a woman who was concentrating on using her _I Love John Major_ placard to wreak havoc against someone wearing a Paddy Ashdown mask and attempting to stab anyone nearby with a pen.

"I think the ballot box is a more attractive option,." Alex commented as she pulled away the rubber face. She vaguely considered keeping the mask to leave on Simon's desk and freak him out but before she had a chance one of the stewards attending the polling station came towards them with a cordless phone, its aerial stretching up a mile.

"Excuse me," he said, "which one of you is DCI Hunt?"

Gene glanced at the metal-headed buffoon, clonked head against the wall and let the reverberations of the metal burrow through his brain enough to knock him senseless. As he dropped to the ground Gene felt pretty certain that he'd be able to take the call without _Kryten Mark II_ legging it at least.

"That would be me," he said, taking the phone. Before he had a chance to say very much a worried voice came on the line,

"_It's bad news, Guv,"_ an officer told him, _"there's been an explosion."_

Gene froze on the spot and felt his mouth turn very dry.

"Where?" he asked grimly.

"_Scott Lane polling station,"_ the voice told him."

Gene's eyes flickered to Alex who was busy handcuffing the woman who was busy chanting about her love for the grey-faced one. He swallowed hard. That was supposed to be their first port of call that day. If it hadn't been for ballot-box head and Paddy-face they'd have been there by now.

"Any dead and injured?" he asked, bringing Alex's attention his way.

"_Three injuries reported so far, one of them serious."_

Gene swallowed and took in a very deep breath.

"Right," he said, "got a couple of guests who want to check out the cells. Send someone to pick them up. One of them might need polling," he glanced at the man with the box on his head who was just starting to come to and wandering around blindly, arms outstretched like a zombie. _Of course_, Gene thought,_ if he had any sense he'd peer through the slot. _He turned to Alex. "Bolly. Someone's started election day with a bang."

Alex's face immediately darkened.

"What?" she breathed.

"Scott Lane," Gene told her, "exploding surprise."

"How bad?" she asked.

"Doesn't sound like some kid burnt his hand on a sparkler, put it that way," said Gene. He glanced at the two bozos. "Babysit until uniform get here," he told them, "We'll pay the going rate."

Leaving them in charge of the collection of cuffed and overwrought voters, Alex and Gene set off back to the car to head on to the next polling station, or whatever was left of it.

~xXx~

Kim would have rather been anywhere else. Even sitting at home with horrible images playing out at her from the television screen would have been better than watching Evan puling on his tracksuit bottoms and donning a sweat band.

"Oh for –" she couldn't even bring herself to finish the end of her cursing. She gagged a little as she watched someone applying a little sweat band for the beard too.

She slipped her hand into her pocket and hastily walked around the back of a BBC truck. It was large enough to hide her away as she pulled out her flask and took a long, comforting swig of the harsh golden liquid within. She might as well have just changed her name to Gene Hunt right there and then. She closed her eyes as she let the drink flow down her throat and gave a small sigh as she stopped drinking to put the cap back on. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then slipped the flask back into her pocket. Wiping her lips on her sleeve, she took a very deep breath, She didn't want to do this, It was bad enough having to deal with the security and crowds as the flame passed through Fenchurch as it was but the fact that they had Evan _'Beard Of Olympic Proportions' _White carrying the thing just about killed her.

She slipped the flask back into her pocket and pulled out a packet of mints. _Got to cover up the smell. _She popped one in her mouth, put the rest back in her pocket and steeled herself to get back to work.

She strode out from behind the truck to see someone running up to Evan yelling, "_Sign my beard!"_ only to be hauled away by a couple of officers as Evan jogged on the spot, waiting to receive the Olympic flame. She tried to walk straight by but he spotted her and gave a pathetic little trot to catch up to her,.

"_Kim!"_

Kim froze right where she stood and steeled herself before turning around slowly to face him.

"DCI Stringer," she corrected coolly.

"Kim," Evan completely ignored her, "I'm so glad I saw you. I wanted to speak to you again about Alex's book."

Kim's eyes flashed with anger.

"I have made my feelings completely clear to you on that matter," she hissed, "and not only have I told you time and again that I want no part in it, and will fight every step of the way to prevent this book from seeing the light of day, but the thought that you are _still_ asking me to contribute to it – even after the wedgie that required medical surgery to resolve – makes my blood boil."

"I thought Alex was supposed to be your friend," Evan said.

"Best damn friend I've ever had."

"So why wouldn't you want to see her work live on after her death?"

Kim knew she was in danger of offering up another wedgie and this time her super might not be so lenient. She tried to fight back her temper as she hissed,

"Because Alex did not want that book to be published. After her own coma she could understand that such a matter is best left private."

"The public will have a real interest in –"

"Do _you_ have an interest in remaining _wedgie-free?"_ Kim hissed.

Evan took a step back, slightly nervously,

"Kim, _please,"_ he sounded just a little desperate, "Alex's part of the book was almost complete, and I've been able to pull together her story. But it's just… _missing something._ It has no real conclusion. That's where you come in."

"Conclude with _this," _Kim hissed, showing him the finger. He seemed a little taken aback.

"That doesn't seem very professional," Evan told her.

"Well maybe _I'm_ not very professional," Kim said crossly, "Listen, _Evan_, I am here today because it was my name on the door when the memo with the picture of Boris Johnson got passed around the station saying _'ha ha losers, you're babysitting the flame'. _I would rather not be here. I would rather none of my men were here, But for some reason the City of London thinks we need to protect your worthless backside so let's just get this over with as soon as possible., You take the flame, do a bit of jogging, try not to set yourself on fire and then we can all go home. Alright?"

Before he could have a chance to respond Kim turned and marched away before her anger could get her into trouble again. The sooner the whole thing was over, the better. The only event she wanted to be taking part in was downing an Olympic pool-sized quantity of scotch.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I'm sorry for this incredibly short chapter, I'd hit a total wall. My confidence and enjoyment of writing had been going downhill for a number of weeks and this week I just struck a total low. Someone seemed to suddenly find the magic words and it's booted my muse back out the pub, no afterlife for her yet, but because I had half of this chapter already written I've struggled to get any more of it done, like it was holding me back, so I'm just going to chuck this out as-is and start a fresh chapter. Thank you for your patience while I've been going through a rough few weeks x**_

_**By the way, during this rotten week I choked out something I wasn't intending to; an alternative to Out of the Window, where it all started. 'The Edge of Heaven' explores what would have happened if Alex jumped from the wrong window. It's very dark but I'd be glad to hear your thoughts and hope you'll take a look x**_


	7. Chapter 6: Doggone Flame

_**A/N: Many thanks to Ranty for allowing me to borrow a four-legged friend!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 6**

While Alex did her best impression of Gene's driving, Gene himself radioed teams Blue and Yellow. He'd already spoken to Simon, demanded that he get to Scott Lane as quickly as possible and then demanded to know why there was a dull, watery splat noise in the background followed by the sound of what appeared to be Robin murdering someone. Next he radioed Marci and Jake who protested that they were just pulling up into the car park of their first port of call.

"I don't care if you're arriving for the opening ceremony of the Beard Lovers Society Awards, I need all teams on site," he barked.

"Shame we don't have colour co-ordinated cars, we could make a rainbow," he heard Jake say in the background.

"No bloody green team," Gene told him.

"You're carrying that one off by yourself," Alex commented with a little smirk as Gene continued to have difficulty handling the driving.

Gene muttered under his breath. A couple of months away from the scene and his guts had turned to jelly.

"Just you wait, Drake," he threatened, "soon as I get me mojo back you'll think yer enjoying a day out at Brands Hatch."

~xXx~

"…Willis, you're by the camera crew, Fullerton and Baines, you're needed where the previous runner comes in from this side here and George, you'll be co-ordinating uniform in this area here."

Kim observed as the men and women of CID spread out around the area to bring peace and order to the overexcited crowds. She sighed as she watched them. The whole day was a bloody cliché. The stupid little flags on sticks, people with union jacks painted on their faces, the overpriced refreshments that illegal sellers were peddling, and of course the man chained to a post with handcuffs coloured like the Olympic rings, protesting about Boris Johnson's hair and the damage that it does to society.

She felt herself reaching into her pocket out of habit and then cursed. _Stop it, Kim. You can't drink here. Not in full view._

Was she becoming some sort of alcoholic? She didn't know but didn't really care either. She just knew that if her life hadn't been turned to absolute shit months before then the day could have been very different. She could have been laughing and joking with Robin about Evan carrying the torch, speculating about whether he was going to paint his beard in the colours of the Olympic rings – she could really see it in her mind's eye.

She turned her head away as a tiny smile flickered on her lips for just a moment but almost immediately it faded because she wasn't going to smile over a bloody daydream.

She began to hear the crowds going wild and waved back a few spectators across a line as the floats started to pass by. What the hell were they even _for_, she wondered as she resisted the urge to boo the one advertising renewable energy sources for beard trimmers.

The crowd were far more impressed than she was. They went wild, clapping and screaming and cheering like crazy until the last float had passed by. There was a flurry of activity as a member if the crowd swooned with excitement at the sight of so many Olympics logos gathered together in one place and the soul-crushing sound of vuvuzelas started up which Kim managed to deal with swiftly thanks to her clunky boots.

"ETA of the torch, two minutes," someone told her.

"Right," Kim felt like sighing. What as the big deal? She just didn't get it. She didn't understand why so many people would even turn out for such a thing. Her eyes scanned the crowd and she noticed a dog over to one side who seemed to be garnering attention from much of the crowd. The dog seemed to have more spectators than the _torch_ did. Her eyes carried on moving across, this time settling upon another dog, but this time as soon as she focused on the animal it vanished. She froze and blinked a few times, trying to work out what had happened. A dog couldn't just disappear from in front of her eyes. It must have quickly run between someone's legs and disappeared into the crowd, she told herself. Either that or she'd had a little more to drink than she'd realised.

There was a strange crackling sound and her eyes scanned the crowd to find out where it was coming from. Very soon, the crackling became a roar. She spun around and a flash of flame made her draw in her breath in shock, stumbling away, but as soon as it started it stopped again. Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking as she clutched her chest and took one deep breath after another. For a moment, just a split second, it looked and felt like there as a wall of flame behind her. What the hell _was_ that? Where had it come from, and where had it gone?

She told herself crossly to calm down as the torch came into view in the distance. There was a smattering of applause as the flame bearer went past. Somehow the crowd had gone crazier for the floats than they did for the flame. Even the dog – the first dog; the one that hadn't disappeared – was attracting bigger cheers. It didn't take long for Kim to see why as a highly annoying woman came towards her, torch in hand.

"Oh shit, it's the _Dispatches_ woman," she groaned as the annoying presenter smiled and waved at the crowd before slowing down and letting her face fall dramatically for a moment. "Oh _fuck_ off, this isn't bloody Four OD," she sighed.

She stood back and observed as the transfer took place; the flame passing from the annoying woman to one Evan White, king of beards. Actually, that's what his sweatshirt said: "_Evan White: King of Beards_". It made Kim want to vomit blood.

She booed him childishly as he began to jog past, torch in hand, with a hugely cheesy grin across his face. She folded her arms and glared at him. She knew that he'd seen her because his expression changed. She had a horrible feeling that she hadn't heard the last about Alex's book for one day.

"_Kim!"_

The moment she thought about that damn book she thought for all the world that she heard Alex's voice. Even though it wasn't possible it still caused her heart to jolt inside her chest. Her eyes widened as she spun around but there was no one there. Well, there _were_ people there, of _course_ there were, there were hundreds of them, but none of them were Alex.

"_Kim! Help me!"_

The voice sounded urgent and desperate now and Kim started to panic deep inside. She turned around, trying desperately to trace the voice but all she could see were the cheerful, excitable crowds clapping and whooping for Evan as he passed them by.

"_Ma'am,"_ she whispered, fighting the urge to let tears form in her eyes. She was hallucinating now, the awful things she'd seen on the screen the night before had affected her too deeply and now she was at the mercy of images that were not even real. Just as she chastised herself for not only seeing things that weren't there but for letting them affect her so badly she heard another roar and spun around to see a wall of fire right beside her and bodies littering the ground, but no sooner had the vision started than it was broken by a cry from the crowd of;

"_Iggy, NO!"_ and Kim spun on her heels to see the dog careering out from the side-lines, hurtling towards Evan

"_Oh shit,"_ she mumbled as she tried to give chase, but both the clunky boots and the alcohol slowed her down. A woman shot out from the crowd in pursuit of her dog as it apprehended Evan and began to wrestle the fame from his grasp.

"_Caligula, no!"_ Kim heard the woman cry just as Evan yelled,

"Get off the damn torch, mutt! This is _my_ day! My moment of glory!"

But Iggy had the advantage over Evan in that he wasn't a two-legged, hairy-chinned bastard so he swiped the torch from his grip, the flame skimming Evan's face and setting alight to his beard.

"_Arrrggghhhh!"_ he cried. What was the procedure for beards on fire? He wasn't sure. Was it standing on a rubber mat? No, that was preventing electrocution. He spotted a child in the crowd licking a large, soft ice cream and right then it seemed like the only option. Moving faster than Simon towards the autograph table at a Red Dwarf convention, he raced towards the child, grabbed the ice cream and smeared it all over his flame-grilled chin like shaving foam.

"_My ice cream!"_ the sound of a weeping child could be heard.

"_My beard!"_ the sound of a weeping Evan drowned him out.

The dog was still hurtling away along the torch route as Kim turned her attention back to the runaway flame. There were officers chasing after him along with the rather attractive and clearly very physically fit woman who was giving chase. A cry of _"Somebody stop that dog!" _rose from the crowd while someone else started humming the Benny Hill chase music.

Just as it seemed that no one was going to stop the dog and that the canine intruder would make it all the way to the Olympic stadium by himself the strange second dog Kim had seen moments before crossed his path and Iggy suddenly came to a complete halt as though frozen and hypnotised by the creature. As Kim continued to run towards the insane spectacle, the strange, second dog seemed to catch her eye. No, it _definitely_ caught her eye, and for some reason it disturbed her greatly. She didn't know why. It made her stop and freeze on the spot for a moment before it turned and carried on running to the other side of the road, leaving both Kim and Iggy motionless and hypnotised for a second.

Kim shook herself from the strange trance she seemed to have entered as Iggy's owner caught up with him.

"_Caligula! Bad dog! Drop that Olympic torch right now!"_

Iggy's ears and tail drooped. He laid the torch on the ground, flame still burning, and covered his eyes mournfully with his paw.

While Fullerton approached Iggy with a set of doggy handcuffs and threatened to bark him his rights Kim scanned the scene with her eyes, slightly frantically. There was Evan receiving medical attention for his beard, an inconsolable small child who was lacking an ice cream and a mortified dog owner who was shaking her head and regretting the day she'd thought would be a good idea to watch the flame pass through.

But there was no sign of the second dog, nor was there any sign of the crackling wall of fire, _or_ of Alex who'd called her name, or of the bodies that had littered the ground. She felt herself shaking as she swallowed and tried to make sense of what had passed in the last few moments. It seemed to make very little sense to her at all. All she knew was that she was getting shivers up and down her spine like nothing on earth.

"Ma'am?" the voice of an officer pulled her attention back to the present.

"Yes?" she said quietly.

the officer held out a small silver disk.

"Just found this," he said, "the other dog dropped it. Do you want us to see if we can track it down? It did stop the flame, after all."

"Yes," Kim said quietly, still feeling disturbed, "I'd like you to track it down, very much."

She watched the officer nod and walk away before she realised she was still holding the object in her hand. "_Wait_," she called, _"I still have_ –" but the officer was out of earshot and she cursed. "Damnit, bloody cloth-ears," she muttered. She looked down at the item for the first time; the round, silver item clearly belonging on the dog's collar. She turned the disc over to see if it had a name or number and the second she saw it she thought her legs were about to give way from under her. She swallowed hard, and she felt for all the world as though time froze around her.

_Cassandra_, it said, the number of the canine unit engraved underneath.

Her eyes urgently scanned the crowd but there was no sign of the dog now, nor proof that it had ever passed through except for the tag that she held between her fingers. Her stomach began to churn with anxiety as she remembered all that Robin had told her about his career, his days as a dog handler, the beautiful dog that he'd trained and worked with until the day he'd been promoted to inspector and had intrusted the canine to somebody else. That was, until the day that Nailer's bullet took her life away.

Did dogs go to heaven?

Apparently not. Apparently they went following the route of the Olympic torch.

"_Shit."_

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Inspired by a very pathetic showing of the torch passing through my town last week… someone brought a dog into the car park and the dog ended up with more spectators than the torch! At least Evan wasn't the one carrying the flame!**_


	8. Chapter 7: Team Politics

**Chapter 7**

"It could have been a lot worse."

As Gene stood surveying the situation he couldn't really imagine how.

OK, so the device had clearly been on the small side. If it hadn't then there would have been far more individuals being hauled into ambulances - some of them covered with black blankets. As it was, so far nine people had been taken to hospital – mostly through shock – and of those only one was unconscious and thought to be ion a serious condition.

"There was the girl."

Alex raised her eyebrow as she looked at the man with his rosette and his collection of Conservative paraphernalia.

"What girl was this, sir?" she asked, sliding her hands into her packets.

"She came through the queue ready to vote but when she got to the front and we asked her for her polling card she doubled over and said she needed the toilet," the man explained, "she didn't even look old enough to vote. Someone pointed her in the right direction and a few minutes later she was running back in the opposite direction. Just left the building, never did vote." He gave a wistful sigh "I was sure she was a Conservative supporter, too…"

"What makes you say that? Painted her face grey?" Gene mumbled as he watched the last of the flames dying down.

"Blue backpack," said the man, "funny thing, I saw she left without it."

Alex glanced at Gene.

"What exactly do you mean?" she asked the man.

"When she left the building." The man explained, "she didn't have it with her any more. I notice blue things, you see. Or lack of them." He bowed his head, "like the whole country after tonight…"

As he began to break into loud, John Major-loving induced sobs, the sound of a car arriving caught Gene's attention.

"Welcome to the scene, Team Yellow," he mumbled.

"Sir," Alex tried to coax the man out of his tears, "can you describe the girl to us? How old would you say she was? Sixteen? Seventeen? Younger than that?"

The man wiped his nose roughly on his blue rosette and addressed Alex.

"Maybe seventeen?" he said, "It's difficult to tell these days. I was sure she wasn't old enough to vote though. I thought she might have gotten lost. Maybe she was here to study." He shrugged. "It's a college."

"Usually yes," another voice made them jump a little as a slightly stuffy looking woman approached them. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I just… I just overheard…" she closed her eyes for a moment as the full damage to the area began to sink in. "My god, look at this place."

"And what's your name, love?" asked Gene.

The woman before them looked like a stereotypical librarian. In fact, both Gene and Alex found themselves silently guessing that's who she was. She had a green turtleneck with a black cardigan, greying wavy hair that fell around her face and a pair of spectacles on little golden chains.

"My name's Tracey Mellor," she said, "I work here. I'm a mathematics tutor. But the college was closed today, except for the library on the other side of the campus."

"You know any students with a grudge against yer ladies' loos?" Gene asked.

"No," Tracey said a little forlornly, "I can't imagine one of the students doing this."

"I can't imagine _you_ as anything other than a ruddy librarian but life's full of surprises," said Gene as Team Yellow left their car and walked in their direction. Eddie and Marci seemed to be in the middle of an argument conducted predominantly through extremely angry hand gestures while Jake seemed ready to kill them both.

"Just _one_ chance," Eddie was begging, "you can see I was under the influence that night! I'm not usually that bad. My self-portraits are usually better than that for a start…"

"Listen_, Eddie,"_ Marci began crossly, "I would rather go out with the head of the Referendum party than you. And I don't even know who that is."

"Can we leave _Eddie Ashworth's Guide To Dating_ and concentrate on the matter at hand please?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow and throwing an admonishing glare at them both. They seemed a little ashamed but it didn't stop them from glaring at one another.

"Description, please," Gene told the Conservative idiot.

"I already gave a description to the officer who arrived here first," he said, "it seems like a waste of time to go through it again."

"Then call that one a test run, just give us a bloody description!"

The Conservative sighed. Why hadn't he stayed well away from politics? In fact, that was the one piece of advice his late father had given him before he fell underneath that elephant;

"_Always buy the right size underpants, son, and never meddle in politics."_

He pulled at his pants and gave a sigh. That was two things he'd ignored.

"I already told you this," he said, "reddy-brown hair… quite long, past her shoulders. Big holes in her ears; I mean, _black-hole_ sized ones. Knitted coat, kind of multi-coloured. "

"And you thought this girl was going to park her 'X' near the boring box?" Gene demanded."

"I know her," Tracey's voice sounded awkward as all eyes turned to her, "I mean, I _think_ I know her. If it's who I think it is."

"Well let's start with who you think it is," said Alex, "can we have a name?"

"Leila," said Tracey, "Leila Geddes. I'm fairly sure that's who you mean. She's a bit of a quiet one. A bit of a loner."

"Probably because anyone she speaks to gets sucked in through the black holes in her ears," said Gene.

"I think I know what he means," Tracey told him, flicking her own earlobes, "she has tunnels."

Alex frowned a little, unsure how someone who had all the appearance of _Librarian of the Year 1997_ would even know what tunnels were – even _she_ had only been introduced to the concept by Kim in a lecture about piercing one night when she had dared to enquire about the pain threshold needed to acquire a set of nipple piercings.

"Do you know where we might find this Lada girl?" asked Gene.

"Leila," Tracey corrected, "I don't know her well, I don't teach her. But the office will have her address on file."

Jake's radio sparked into life and he edged away to respond as Alex continued to question Tracey.

"What sort of a student _is_ Leila?" she asked, "would you say there was anything unusual about her?"

"Apart from the ears that destroy the universe," Gene added.

Tracey shook her head.

"Just an average student" she said, "she's never been flagged up as difficult. Never been earmarked for greatness either, mind you. Does her work on time. Fairly quiet in class. Doesn't really have a lot of friends, I think most of her friends go to another college. Most of them are older. She's certainly never shown any tendencies to…" she looked at the damage all around them, "blast out chunks of the walls." She shook her head, "I don't even know why we're having this conversation. Leila isn't exactly going to put a bomb together in the middle of doing her Photography homework, is she?"

"Maybe she got a bad roll o'film," Gene mumbled as Jake walked back to them looking fairly serious.

"Uniform have picked someone up, Guv," he began, "girl matching the description given when the blast first happened."

"Is it Leila?" the teacher asked.

Jake hesitated.

"That's police business," he said nervously.

"In other words it's a yes and me DS needs a lesson in keeping a poker face," said Gene. He scratched his head. "Alright. Any more like yerself here today?" he addressed Tracey.

"I've not seen anyone else in cardigans," she frowned.

"I meant teachers," Gene growled. The day was already pissing him off and he was only a few hours in.

"One or two," she said, "actually, a fair few. We like the peace and quiet." She gave a dreamy sigh. "It's so tranquil without students."

Gene closed his eyes and sighed.

"Fine," he began, "the drunken bed mates can head back to the station. Ask Tunnel Ears a few friendly questions about her allegedly sparky personality. Dawson, you brief Team Blue –" he watched Simon pull up outside, "- on the situation and take them for a tour of facilities. See if any academic brainboxes have put two and two together about tunnel-ears yet. Find out more about her. "

"Right," said Jake as he turned to await Simon's arrival but to his horror he spotted a very angry Robin stepping out of the car, strangely damp and yelling vehemently at Terry who had an armful of what looked like very small balloons. "Oh _fuck,"_ he closed his eyes and groaned as he turned away. He had been avoiding Robin since the night of Gene's welcome back party where he'd humiliated himself by asking him to dance. He hadn't known that Robin was spoken for, nor that he's been essentially trying to matchmake between him and Simon. Not only had he broken his own rule of never putting lust above work but he'd humiliated himself, Robin _and_ Simon in the process. Now Simon felt rejected, even though he was less interested in Jake that he was in planning a fun day out at the rubbish dump, and he'd humiliated himself in front of Robin who had no idea how to even take the fact that someone was interested in him and went to great lengths to avoid the subject. Which was fine by Jake because he was doing exactly the same.

But it was typical, of course, that the more off-limits somebody was, the more he found himself attracted to the man. That wasn't like Jake for a start. Work was normally everything to him. He labelled himself _unlucky in love_ but if he was honest he more or less sabotaged all his own chances.

Jake was heavily romantic, bisexual and chronically idealist in intent. In practice he was awkward, wary and impossible to please. No one met his horribly high standards so he would end up alone at the end of the night. Or, worse, taking his paperwork to bed with him. This had happened on more than one occasion. Marci would cop off with some attractive stranger and Jake would wake up surrounded by paperwork. Worryingly one report seemed to have even given him a hickey at one point.

Marci glanced at him as Team Blue approached. She still felt horribly about pushing him to asking Robin to dance that night. But she couldn't help feeling he was lonely. He was her best friend and she wanted to see him happy. Jake and Marci were really the very best of friends and had been for years. Therein lay a weird situation for a start. Gene had been somewhat shocked to discover that the pair had known each other before arriving in his world. In fact, they had died at the same time. There had been a precedent for it, of course – Simon and Robin arriving together in 1995 was the only other occurrence that Gene was aware of - but that was different. Despite what happened since, at the time they were in a deeply committed relationship. Jake and Marci were just friends but somehow they came across together.

Gene wasn't pleased about it because it as yet another oddity. Those had been cropping up far too often in his world of late. He didn't know what it meant for him, for the station or for any aspect of what they did. When he thought about it all the oddities began with Simon's permanent arrival. He knew Sam has descried Simon as the bridge between two worlds. What exactly that meant Gene didn't know but it was where things had started.

Right then the _bridge between worlds_ was trying not to laugh as a bedraggled Robin yelled a torrent of abuse at terry.

"If I see _one more water balloon_ this side of the millennium I am going to take you to Number Ten Downing Street and personally see to it that you get a political introduction to getting a portrait of Margaret Thatcher up your arse!"

Jake stared in horror as Robin stood there like some sort of model at a photo-shoot; his white work shirt clinging to him, highlighting the definition that the gym had given his body, letting the tattoos show through the material. Water dripped from the ends of his dark hair that fell over his eyes. He looked as though he was advertising aftershave.

"_Oh for fu_-" Jake closed his eyes and turned away as Gene tried to take in exactly what chaos had been taking place.

"You swam here or something?" he demanded

"Ask him!" Robin pointed at Terry, "and control your officers!" he snapped, immediately regretting it from the look on Gene's face. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Don't bother, I'll find my own filing cabinet…" and he began to walk away to find one to throw himself against to save Gene the trouble.

Gene left Robin to dole out his own punishment and turned to Marci and Eddie.

"What are you two hatebirds waiting for?" he asked, "get yerselves back to the station and find out whether there's enough holes in tunnel girl's ears to hide a small explosive device."

"Yes guv," Eddie said, slightly warily as Marci looked for all the world like she would either cry or kill him on the way.

"Yes, Guv," she echoed, a tense note in her voice.

Gene turned back to Jake.

"Dawson, brief the wet shirts and study the facts about this Leila girl."

"Yes Guv," Jake _couldn't wait_ to spend the day working with the two people he'd been avoiding. It was the day that just kept on getting better.

Gene looked around as the chaos began to calm itself down. It felt good to be back in the thick of it and doing what he did best, but something didn't feel right. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was something eerie about that day - and it was more than the Cheshire Cat grin on Tony Blair's face.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: First chapter I have felt good about in weeks. I'm back, baby!**_


	9. Chapter 8: Political Unrest

**Chapter 8**

"One drink."

"No."

"One drink, tomorrow night."

"No."

"One drink and dinner."

"If I didn't want to spend the time it was going to take me to consume a drink with you then what makes you think I'd want to spend enough time to down a three course meal too?"

"I thought it might give you a chance to… I don't know,… get to know me."

"You leave self-portraits after a night of immoral behaviour and wear underpants with _'Hi, I'm Eddie'_ embroidered on them," Marci made a sharp turn, "that's as much as I'll ever need to know."

Eddie gulped as his insides took half an hour to catch up with the rest of him. He'd thought Gene's driving was hard enough to cope with but at least he knew what he was doing. Marci's was just… _bad_.

"You've never even given me a chance!" He protested.

"You decided to forgo your one chance the day we met and you approached me with the line; '_I'm guilty of first degree lust, you'll have to perform a strip search.'"_

Eddie frowned. That was his best chat-up line. If that one wasn't going to work then what chance did he have? Right then his chances seemed to be slipping away before his eyes as Marci gave another jerky turn and he almost lost his breakfast.

"Christ almighty, do you want to slow down a bit or are we actually inside the Hadron Collider?"

"The what?" Marci frowned and Eddie cursed silently. He'd found himself so integrated into the world these days that he sometimes forgot the truth of his situation.

As with other 'floaters' like Alex, Sam and Simon he'd still been alive in the real world when he awoke around Easter in 1996. But in the interim year his body had lost is battle to recover. Simon had known it. He'd picked up the sense from him back at Christmas. Eddie carried on regardless, he had no idea and as time had gone on he had become less and less aware that he was hearing nothing from the real world any more. Gene's world was slowly taking him over. It was kinder that way.

Most of Eddie's time and energy had gone onto pursuing the interests of his loins. Unfortunately for Eddie his conquests had so far amounted to his night of drunken debauchery with Marci and an unfortunate snog behind the canteen with the woman with the far arse. It was dark, there were sprouts, it was an easy mistake to make.

But Marci? Marci, he really liked. _Genuinely_ liked. Liked in _an I want to go out with you_ kind of way instead of just an_ I'm going to try wishing your clothes off because this is just a dream _kind of a way. He'd made a mistake by using ten of his chat-up lines within two minutes of meeting the woman though and it was very difficult to recover from that. He certainly wasn't going to improve his chances by insulting her driving though.

"Nothing," he sighed, "let's just get back to the station and question this girl with the tunnels." He sighed. He was back to picturing the Hadron Collider again. _Particle acceleration through the medium of ear piercing. _That was a new one, he had to admit.

~xXx~

"I remember this the first time," Alex said with some delight, the charred remains of the college foyer around her.

"You could have bloody warned us then!" Gene cried, "instead of leaving us with a charbroiled polling station.

"No, Gene, I don't man the _bomb_," Alex sighed, "I mean the election." She sighed, "New labour… the buzz in the air… a new dawn for Britain…"

"The Cheshire Cat grinning at you with his smug ruddy gob," Gene added.

Alex ignored him.

"I remember going to vote. Molly was very young, still only a baby really. She came with me."

"What did she vote for, _free rusks for all?"_

"No, she voted for the_ throwing up in the polling booth and needing a fresh ballot paper _party," said Alex.

Gene poked at a charred doorway.

"That's one way to spoil yer vote," he said.

Alex sighed deeply as she stared at the burnt building.

"We really thought things were going to be different," she said.

Gene rolled his eyes.

"Very nice work ruining the outcome for me, Bolly," he said.

"Oh come on, it's not like there's much doubt it."

"I still appreciate the element of surprise!"

"You didn't appreciate the element of surprise last night," Alex pouted.

"I was not prepared for political bedroom role-play!" Gene informed her, "the limit of that should be seeing how far I can bend you over the table in the polling booth. Finding you dressed as Tony Blair and asking if I wanted to peruse yer manifesto came as a bit of a shock, that's all!"

Alex came to a halt and turned to Gene.

"This worries me," she said quietly, "I don't remember this happening the first time. A bomb."

"Old age, Bols, addling yer brain," Gene said tactfully, "happens to the best of us."

Alex ignored that.

"Simon and Robin clearly had no memory of it either," she said quietly, "either it was all covered up, or…"

Gene stared as she left her thought hanging.

"I just love the part where you forget I'm not a mind reader," he said.

"Or it didn't happen the first time." Alex said quietly. She paused as she thought about it. Did everything always happen exactly as it had in the real world? Were some of the crimes they saw originals? There had of course been some variation from world to world. Little things, such as Gene taking her hand as a young girl, or Robin carrying his younger self, or Nailer being caught in the 90s instead of continuing his reign until 2010. Perhaps those instances had changed other matters down the line. The butterfly effect. "Either way, we couldn't have been prepared for this."

"Still shouldn't have let it happen though," Gene told her.

"No."

"So let's see what we can find out about tunnel-ears and her tory-supporting backpack before we encounter any more political unrest for one day," Gene told her.

Alex sighed.

"Only if we can stop with the politics jokes for the rest of the day," she said.

~xXx~

"Fire assembly point – more like '_meet here for a smoke and a chat'_ point," Robin commented as he saw the over-excitable college staff who'd come in to work_ sans students _that day gathering eagerly on the all-weather pitch.

"_Well I never!"_

_"Did you hear that blast?"_

"_I thought my pants were going to fall down!"_

"Didn't need to know that," Simon commented as someone speculated about whether the shock of the explosion could compromise the integrity of their trousers.

"Right," Robin surveyed the scene, his hands resting against his belt just in case his trousers should do anything untoward, "there's about twenty staff here today. We'll take six or seven each, find out who knows the most about the suspect, find out what she's into, who she knows, whether she's got any worrying views. We should be able to get through them in about half an hour." He swept back his hair as he slowly started to dry out in the sun. "And at that point we formulate a plan to kill Terry."

"Fine by me," Simon nodded.

"Jake?"

Jake glanced up. He'd been doing a good job of not looking Robin in the eye.

"Yes, fine," he said quietly.

Robin wanted to ask him if he was alight but he was still feeling somewhat awkward about the whole _'would you like to dance' _incident, especially since he'd automatically told Jake to stay where he was while he ran after a humiliated Simon and then had been persuaded to babysit a drunken Gene. He hadn't realised that Jake had stayed there for about half an hour, waiting for him to come back. He wasn't sure which of them felt the most stupid.

"Aren't you supposed to be escorting your furry friends anyway?" Simon pointed out.

To be quite frank, Robin was enjoying the break from the canine department.

"I won't tell if you won't," he said a little sheepishly.

Simon's radio sprang into life and he groaned.

"Oh, what _now?"_ he mumbled as he took a step away to respond, leaving Jake looking extremely awkward and Robin not really knowing what to say.

Robin was struggling a little with his new status. He'd never been in demand really. He never really made that much of himself. He always looked smart enough for work but that was about as far as it went. A combination of the strength he developed coming through the ordeal of helping Alex and getting closer to Kim had seen him go through a fair transformation; first the gym, then the tattoos, a piercing, the eyeliner and changes such as simply using a bit of gel in his hair and investing in a few trendier shirts. Now he was receiving attention like he never had before, and had no idea how to handle it.

"Listen, Jake," he began awkwardly. He might not have known how to handle it but he couldn't cope with all the awkwardness, "I'm really sorry about the party."

Jake froze and his eyes closed like shutters coming down over a shop window. His brain shut down. This was the ultimate humiliation, being called out about that night while investigating an explosion.

"Shit… sir, listen," he began, "I'm sorry, can we forget about it?"

"It's just," Robin's mouth ran away with him through nerves, "I thought you liked Simon… DCI Shoebury…"

"I said let's forget about it," Jake prayed hard for something to cease the conversation. _An earth quake. A volcano erupting_, the ground to open up and swallow him…

"When you asked if we were together I thought you were asking because –"

"Yeah, I get it," Jake said quickly. _Really, anything. Anything to get out of this. Giant bird swooping down from the sky and carrying me away, toilets erupting, superheroes descending on the place…_

"And I'm…. I'm not single, you see… it's just… we can't be together right now… it's complicated…" Robin wished that he had more of a clue how to deal with the social complexities of life.

"I said it's fine, can we just drop this, please?" Jake remembered exactly why he didn't _do_ relationships or any kind of attraction at all. _Pirate ships, radiation leak, big fist fight breaking out –_

"Hey," Simon stepped back towards them, "Rob, we have to go."

"We haven't got the statements yet," frowned Robin.

"Gene says leave that to Jake, there's a fist-fight breaking out at another polling station."

"A what?" cried Robin as Jake almost keeled over. He'd never had a prayer answered before. Maybe he'd buy a lottery ticket later.

"It's over at the first place we were supposed to be heading before all hell broke loose and we got diverted," Simon told him, "come on, let's go. The car might even be dry by now."

Jake watched as they set off quickly to head to the fight in question, then stared at the mass of staff before him. He couldn't deny that questioning them on some girl with giant holes in her ears was a better option than getting a further lecture from Robin about the 101 reasons why it was never going to happen. He just hoped that none of them were going to offer a full explanation of the connection between bombs and the dropping of pants.

~xXx~

"You're going down, dog."

It could have been a particular trendy copper throwing a rapper in the cells, but it wasn't. It was one of the canine unit who had been asked to assist in the questioning of Iggy. Kim sighed and shook her head as she watched the dog being led away to the interview room with his apologetic owner and paid minimal attention to Evan who was standing at the reception desk with a bandaged chin.

_"I wish to press charges!"_ he said bitterly, "_My chin deserves compensation! This could lose me my sponsorship deals! Not to mention my modelling contracts! Life without facial hair is not a jolly one!"_

"Neither is life with your photo on the sides of busses," someone mumbled, doing their best to ignore him.

Kim bit her lip. She felt strange and awkward being around the canine division. There was a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach that wouldn't go away. She couldn't shake it. Clutching the little silver disc in the palm of her hand she walked slowly to the office shed been to so many times. Robin's name was no longer on the door but a small plaque in memorial stood beside it. _In memory of Police Chief Inspector Robin Thomas, dearly missed by his friends and colleagues._ That always made her feel a little bitter. Dearly missed by _whom?_ Wasn't there someone missing from that?

She peered through the window. The office was empty. She opened the door slow and stepped inside. God, she felt sick suddenly. Why was that, was it just from the knowledge of whose room she was in? Or had she been relying too heavily on the scotch?

Her eyes scanned the office . _Where was it? _She was sure it was still there somewhere. They hadn't even removed all his personal affects yet. Her eyes settled upon it; the tiny urn on top of the filing cabinet. Slowly she walked towards it and lifted it from the surface with a trembling hand. The tiny bronze plate on the side read _Cassandra; 2006-2010. _She felt something building up in her chest, a barrage of emotion. She didn't know what was happening but _something_ strange was going on.

She placed the urn back down and laid the little tag beside it. She could still see that dog crossing Iggy's path, halting him in his tracks. And _her,_ too. She'd been frozen. She shuddered to think of it even know.

A crackling of flame came from behind her but she cautioned herself not to look. She knew it wasn't really there and she would only see the impossible.

Instead she quickly left the room, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it, breathing slowly in and out. She should never have gone in there. She only felt worse for it. But it was too late now.

"Ma'am?"

Kim glanced around as an officer walked towards her.

"Yes?" she said quickly.

"The super wants to see you."

Kim hesitated. Was she in trouble? There wasn't much more she could have done about the dog and the torch.

"Did he say why?" she asked.

The officer shrugged a little.

"Something to do with a gang you've been tracing? Moved their campaign. You're needed in Manchester."

Kim almost fell over on the spot.

"_Manchester?"_ she cried in alarm. She knew the officer looked a little taken aback and she couldn't blame him. It probably sounded like an overreaction bout after the events that had taken place there a few months earlier her heart was racing and her legs felt weak at the thought of ever going back there again.

"A bar's been held up at gunpoint," said the officer, "sounds like the same group you were tracking. Superintendent Hedges will tell you more."

Kim fell back against the wall panting heavily as the officer walked away. She couldn't face the thought of it. _Manchester_; back to the place Robin was shot, the place Alex thought was going to lead her home, the place the car struck her. The place that started a long and horrible sequence of events.

But it looked as though she didn't have a lot of choice.

Things were moving apace and she didn't know _what_ was coming, only that it felt very bad indeed.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: My writing output is going to slow right down as the move gets closer. Also, I'm trying to update my other fics a little (and I have a new one with a series of drabbles if you want to have a peek) and then after the move when things are settled a little more this one will be the priority. I'm hoping I'll still be updating as often as I can in the next few weeks… a mobile broadband dongle is going to assist me until we get the broadband put on in our new house – In Manchester! :D**_

_**I am behind with PMs and messages, I'll try to catch up in the next few days. I have a Tumblr now (well, I've had it for ages but I'm actually using it now) so if you want to catch up with me while the move is taking priority my username is xxmisty on there. (I mostly use it to spam pictures of Alex :P But I've started rambling about writing too.)**_


	10. Chapter 9: Manchester Calling

**Chapter 9**

"Let's start with what you were doing at Scott Lane in the first place."

Leila shrugged, her arms folded.

"College," she said.

"College was closed today."

"Uh, doors were open," Leila shrugged.

"The college was being used as a polling station for the general election."

"Yeah. I noticed that."

"And you're under the age of eighteen," Eddie pointed out, "so you are not entitled to vote."

"I'm not entitled to drink ether but it's not stopped me so far," Leila shrugged again.

"You're seventeen years old."

"I can count."

"What were you doing in the queue of voters?"

Marci closed her eyes for a moment and gave an almost silent sigh of frustration as she watched Leila examining the purple varnish on her nails.

"Leila," she said quietly, "a very serious criminal act has been committed. It's an important day, there were a lot of people there and the number of injuries could have been much worse."

"It's not like I did anything."

"If you didn't then tell us what you were doing in the foyer of your college," Marci urged her, "because unless you begin to talk to us we won't be able to work out how best to corroborate your story."

Leila glanced at Marci and her sincere expression. This was where Marci's; strength really lay. She supposed she could be placed under the 'good cop' label of the whole good cop/bad cop scenario, except if anyone tried to be the bad cop she'd usually tell them off for it. That didn't mean to say that she was always like that. People often made the mistake of thinking she was a pushover. When they assumed so and tried something on they would soon discover that Marci could certainly hold her own.

Eddie had discovered this more than most.

"I just needed a piss, OK?" Leila seemed to look at Marci from only one eye, the other half closed.

"The queue was not for the toilet," Marci pointed out.

"The loos by the library were shut," Leila told her, "they hadn't unlocked them yet. I was desperate."

"Then why were you queuing?" Marci asked, "I mean, the line was pretty long… don't you think that if you were that desperate you'd just go straight past?"

"I tried," Leila said through gritted teeth, "they wouldn't let me. Thought I was queue-jumping. Said if I needed to go that badly I'd have to wait til I got to the front of the line."

"And what exactly happened when you got to the toilets?" Eddie asked.

"What are you, some kind of pervert?" cried Leila, "I'm not going to draw you a bloody diagram!"

"One of the people checking off voters said they saw you enter the toilet with a blue back pack," Marci continued, "but that you didn't have it when you left."

Leila hesitated for a second.

"I must have left it behind," she said.

"Forget your stuff often, do you?" asked Eddie, "leave a trail of backpacks everywhere you go? Trying to drum up business for Millets?"

Leila glanced from Eddie to Marci.

"Is he trying to be a comedian or something?" she demanded.

"He's certainly 'trying'," Marci rolled her eyes. She looked at Leila, "how can you forget to take a backpack with you?"

Leila shrugged

"Just did," she said.

"There are witnesses who saw you leave in a hurry."

"I wanted to get home," Leila explained, "I wasn't feeling well."

"Oh dear," Marci said quietly, "are you feeling alright now?"

"No."

"What's the matter?"

"Upset stomach," said Lila, "why do you think I need the bloody bog that badly?"

"Well, I thought it was because you needed a wee," said Marci, "that's what you told me two minutes ago, anyway." She noticed Leila's eye dart around nervously and saw her visibly sink in her chair. "You do look pale though," Marci raised her eye as she watched Leila squirming nervously, "perhaps we should take you to the station doctor. Get you a full examination. I'm sure he's got a nice new box of latex gloves, I saw him with them just the other day. Give you a thorough examination. And I'm sure it won't hurt a bit." She watched Leila turn increasingly pale. "Or perhaps we'll give you a few minutes to see if you start feeling any better," Marci said pleasantly, getting to her feet, "and then maybe you'll even remember what happened to your backpack." She glanced at the clock. "Interview suspended at eleven-sixteen."

She stopped the tape as Eddie stood up and the two of them left the room with a nervous Leila staring after them, anxiously contemplating exactly where the doctor was going to shove his latex-covered fingers.

"So," Eddie turned to Marci as they closed the door behind them," "what do you make of her?"

Marci breathed out and folded her arms as they walked along the corridor.

"She's a kid," she said, "obviously covering up. Either that backpack was hers and she's had something to do with the explosion, or…"

"Or?" Eddie prompted.

Marci looked at him as they came to a halt by the coffee machine.

"Or she did the world's largest floater and doesn't want to be discovered," she said. She took delight in Eddies' revolted expression but before he had the chance to comment on her thoughts the sound of his radio buzzing brought his attention back to more serious matters as he answered the call.

"_Team yellow, you're needed."_

"Oh _what?"_ Eddie groaned. He spoke into the radio, "What is it, Guv? We're in the middle of interviewing the suspect."

"_Well we've got another one for you,"_ Gene's voice sounded strained, "_Holmethorpe community centre. Something's sitting in the khazi, smoking."_

Eddie frowned.

"Well… can't someone just tell them to go smoke outside?" he asked.

_"Not when it's a bag with a bunch o'wires coming out of it,"_ said Gene, "_failed device."_

"Shit," Eddie and Marci looked at one another, their eyes opened wide. "Alright, Guv. We'll be right over."

Marci felt her heart rate rising as she thought about Gene's words.

"Another bloody bomb," she shook her head, "I knew today was always going to be risky, but…"

"At least this one's not caused any injuries," Eddie reminded her.

"No one ever told you how dangerous smoking can be?" asked Marci.

~xXx~

"I don't believe this!" cried Simon as Robin pushed a young man in full John Prescott cosplay to the wall and cuffed his hands behind his back.

"What?" Robin asked as the man tried to struggle free but found himself cuffed regardless.

"That was Gene," said Simon as he slipped his radio away, "there's been another one."

"Another man dressed as John Prescott?!" Robin cried in alarm.

"No," sighed Simon, "another device."

"What?"

"This one failed to detonate at least," Simon looked anxious as he spoke, "bomb squad are on their way to it right now."

Robin closed his eyes for a moment.

"Shit," he sighed.

"Gene says get these two down the station," he nodded from the John Prescott lookalike to someone dressed as Edwina Currie, a big box of eggs in her hands, "and then head over. Holmethorpe community centre."

Robin looked at the two cuffed idiots and then back at Simon.

"Are you noticing a pattern?" he asked.

Simon nodded.

"Certainly am," he said.

"Shit," Robin took a deep breath. Distract at one station, then bomb another – was that the plan? "Shouldn't we be focusing on the other two polling stations then?" asked Robin, "just in case?"

"Let's get there and see what Gene has to say," Simon told him, "but I think you're right. We don't someone making this a hat-trick."

_So much for a day of supervising Xs in boxes,_ Robin thought to himself.

~xXx~

Kim knocked a little nervously on the Superintendent's door.

"_Come in,"_ she heard him say.

As she opened the door slowly she wished she didn't have to step inside. The words of the officer were ringing through her mind. _Manchester_. Back to Manchester. That was one place she never wanted to go again. Her track record for visiting the city wasn't exactly a pleasant one.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked, hoping that Hedges wouldn't catch the scent of alcohol on her breath.

"Ohh, yes, DCI Stringer, take a seat," he said, skimming through some papers to find what he was looking for, "I'll make this brief. I understand you've already had a day that's driven you barking."

Kim held her breath to stop herself from screaming. She supposed she was going to have to live with the dog puns for a while. _So this is what it's like to be Robin_, she thought to herself.

"Yes, it _has_ been trying," she said through gritted teeth.

The Super handed her an enlarged CCTV still showing three men wearing masks.

"Take a look at this," he told her, "look familiar?"

"Yeah, it's Yogi Bear, Father Ted and Barney the Dinosaur."

"I didn't mean the masks."

"I know." Kim sighed as she studied the picture. It was _very_ familiar. She'd been trying to track a gang who targeted bars and nightclubs in London just after closing time before they had a chance to take the money out of the tills. Things had been fairly quiet for the last fortnight or so as CID had come a step closer to finding out who the masked men were. It looked as though they had relocated.

"Two bars have been targeted in the Manchester area in the last few days," Hedges told her, "The first one was a quiet bar, almost like a dress rehearsal. Last night they targeted the Taurus bar on Canal Street and made away with a petty fortune. It was Evan Fancy Dress night."

Kim blanched.

"Thank you for filling in that _particular_ detail, Sir," she gagged.

"Manchester spotted the connection. I've said you'll head straight there and help them with their investigation."

There was a part of Kim that resented that; Manchester were already expecting her, before _she_ even knew she was going. But she supposed it was a fair enough assumption that she could just jump in her car and head up there. It wasn't as though she had anyone waiting for her at home. It wasn't as though she had Robin waiting for her to arrive home. All she had was a haunted TV set and a glut of memories.

"Do you, uh, have a map?" she asked.

Hedges frowned.

"I thought you had satnav," he said.

Kim flinched for a moment. Why the hell had she forgotten about that? Was her head back in the nineties? _Shit_, that was one place she didn't want to think about.

"Yes, yes of course," she said, raising her hand to her head. For a moment she thought she could hear flames again but they disappeared quickly and she decided to forget about it.

"Stringer? Everything OK?"

Kim glanced back at Superintendent Hedges. She closed her eyes briefly and nodded.

"Yes," she said, "It's been a stressful morning, that's all."

"You kept the flame burning and that's the main thing," said Hedges, his words making her flinch. Flames were the last things she wanted to think about.

She got to her feet, idly wondering how much she'd had to drink and whether she should really be driving two hundred miles. She supposed a couple of black coffees would do the trick and then she'd be fine. And anyway, a nip of scotch never did _Gene's_ driving any harm.

"I'll head up right away, sir," she said. She turned around and left the office feeling somewhat anxious. It was her job, she had no choice. She needed to go. But Manchester was not a place she'd wanted to return to.

The memory of the gunshot ringing out, knowing that Robin had fallen inside of that shop, the feel of the car that slammed into her and cracked her ribs – they were all memories that taunted her, that came back to her at night as she struggled to sleep. Now they would be haunting her day.

As she walked from the building and made her way to the Fiat she felt certain that a voice in the air cried her name but as she looked around there was no one there. Either her mind was playing tricks on her, or another _world_ was. Either way she just wanted them to stop. It would take all her focus and concentration to get through the rest of the day ahead as it was.

"I never thought I'd miss Evan and his ruddy beard," she mumbled, "or what's left of it, anyway."

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I have posted a new poll on my profile! It's just for fun, I need some cheering up. Go and vote for your character crushes – choose as many as you like and be honest – it's all anonymous so no one will ever know if you have a thing for beards… The results of the shipping poll are on my Tumblr, you can find a direct link to the post at the bottom of my profile :D**_

_**I've decided to continue The Edge of Heaven which is now no longer a oneshot – would really love it if you'd like to read and review. Also, this chapter reminded me of the time I saw Edwina Currie and her daughter causing a scene in a local shop – one of the shop assistants was so upset I ended up buying something to try to make her feel better!**_


	11. Chapter 10: Unlocked Chest

**Chapter 10**

Keats laid down his tools and gave a smirk. He couldn't believe the day had actually arrived. How many years had this been in the making? Too many. He should have taken the direct approach a long time ago. He couldn't believe he'd never done this before. But then, he'd never had this much power before or been this dark and malicious before.

"I'll tell you a little story," his voice was cold, almost emotionless as his eyes rose to the board on which he had assembled a collection of images. It wasn't unlike the wall found in his old flat in 2010 on which he'd gathered innumerable photographs of Simon, so obsessed with catching 'the one that got away'. But this time Simon was not the sole focus of the montage.

He'd gathered the pictures from various sources... CCTV footage, files, personal photographs and quite simply from following them unseen. He addressed them all as he spoke, as though he expected them to listen to his every word.

"Once upon a time there was a little boy called James," he told the wall as his hand ran across the desk, his fingers brushing the odd components he hadn't used and the tools that helped him to complete the job, "And James wanted to make his mother proud. Unfortunately he never knew his father," his eyes skipped involuntarily to a picture of Robin near the centre of the board, "although that might be just as well." He got to his feet and walked slowly to the wall as he continued. "So he joined the Police force. And she was so proud of him, every time she saw him in the uniform. But something went wrong." He felt himself shake as he said, "and James went for a very long sleep." He let his hand skim the photographs one by one; all the people he'd targeted in different ways. All the people he wanted to see the end of.

All the people who'd fought back against him.

Because when it came down to it, what's what they'd done, wasn't it? Every last one of them.

"Now," he continued trying to block out any semblance of connection with the tale that he told, "while he was asleep, James went to another place where he continued his work. But he knew he wasn't like the others. For a long time he tried to find his way home but then he found he was better where he was. He could change things. Policing the police. Sorting out the ones that were going wrong." His eyes focused squarely on a photograph of Gene, one hand on his car door, "of course, some of them were going more wrong than others." His plain, emotionless expression began to crack as his anger started to filter through. He couldn't stop it. Where Gene was concerned there was no holding back his fury. "In fact, when I came to look at one particular case," he changed suddenly from the third person, "I got more than I bargained for."

His eyes scanned the rest of the faces. He knew them all well. Far too well.

"You all let me down… I gave you every chance… but in the end you always go scuttling back to Mister and Missus Fenchurch East." He looked at the faces on his wall I turn; Eddie, Robin, Simon… "_Dances With Staplers, wandering strands of my DNA, the one who got away…" _his eyes settled on a different photograph, an older picture, one from almost two years earlier; a young girl with bleached, cropped locks, metal placed around her face and heavy boots upon her feet. He felt a stirring of emotion that he had to frantically beat away and turned his face so that he couldn't see the image any longer.

"_This is it,"_ he said, "this is the end. No more, Hunt. Game over, Drake. It's time to lay your little kingdom to rest."

He drew in his breath and let it out slowly. The clock was counting down the seconds to the end. In his head, it had been counting down for years.

~xXx~

Why someone had thought it was a good idea to let Eddie take charge of the _Police: Do Not Cross_ tape was anyone's guess. He had been trying to unstick himself from it for the best part of five minutes already when Simon and Robin arrived and raced from their car to the small gathering of CID, plus Shaz whose dog was going slightly crazy at the scent of the smouldering device.

"Sorry, we got here as fast as we could," Simon apologised, "Edwina Currie wouldn't stop throwing eggs in the car."

"At me," Robin muttered, trying desperately to shake bits of shell and yolk from his shirt.

"Bloody hell Batman," Gene tried to stifle a smirk, "what's that song again? _Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an –"_

"Yes, _thank you,"_ Robin said through gritted teeth, "I've had it from _him_ –" he jabbed a thumb in the direction of Simon, "- in the car for the last ten minutes."

Simon watched Eddie standing on one portion of the tape to hold it in place while he attempted to pull it from his hands, turning round on the spot and sticking it in another area entirely instead.

"How long had Eddie been stuck in the _Police: Do Not Cross_ tape for?" Simon asked.

Marci checked her watch.

"About four and a half minutes," she said.

Simon nodded.

"Should have run a sweepstake on how long it will take him to get free," he said.

"I'll remember that for next time," Marci nodded.

A figure running frantically towards them caught their attention.

"Guv," Jake raced toward Gene, "I've got something on the backpack girl. Leila." He held up a bundle of papers. "College IT technician gave me a copy of her computer history. She'd been using the internet."

Simon had to note with some amusement that using the internet was still something of a novelty.

"What's she been using it for? Looking up the latest in backpack design?" Gene mumbled, taking the papers, "_flaming crocodiles,_ looks like she's taken an interest in how to make things go with a bang."

"Let me see," Alex took a few of the pages as line after line of information about explosives and bomb-making appeared before her, "shit…"

"Are you telling me that this _net_ bollocks can actually tell you how to blow yer own home sky high?" Gene demanded.

"You can find just about anything online," Simon gave a sigh, "unfortunately."

"So it _is_ useful for something more than playing that _Astley_ bastard and fapping to tornado sirens," Gene muttered.

Alex stared at him, aghast.

_"What made you say that?"_ she demanded as the bottom fell out of Gene's stomach. A feeling of cold dread washed over him. This was _not_ the Alex who'd confided about her siren-fapping ex. He hadn't realised. Hadn't even thought.

"What's that, Bols?" he asked loudly, trying to bury the subject, "you want to see the rest of the notes, you say?"

"What?" Alex frowned as he completely ignored her.

"Well here you are," he lumped them into her arms and shuffled away to the other side of their gathering to avoid any further questioning just as an uncomfortable Robin began to unfasten his shirt.

"It's no good, I can't stand this," he declared as he took the egged garment off, dropped it to the ground and stood there with his toned, tattooed abs on display.

"_Oh, for fu-"_ Jake closed his eyes and spun around for the second time that day. Had the _entire_ thing been designed to torture him? His first crush in god knows how many years and now he couldn't escape it.

"Simon, have you got anything spare in the car?" Robin asked. Simon remained unresponsive. "Simon?" He realised that in stark contrast to Jake Simon couldn't take his eyes off him. It was the first time that Simon had seen his body in full view since he'd arrived back in Gene's world with an inked, toned torso and Robin suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. "_Shit_," he mumbled. As he glanced around he noticed Simon wasn't the only one staring at him. In fact, the only people who weren't reacting to his chest-exposure were Gene, who had no interest in looking at _any_ body part that belonged to Robin, and Eddie who still had ten tons of _Police: Do Not_ Cross tape stuck about his person. He thought for a minute that Marci's eyes were going to pop out if her head on stalks and even Shaz was smirking a little hesitantly as she admired his form. "Oh, for _fuck's_ sake," he mumbled as he started pacing back to the car.

"Have you all quite finished watching the one-man Chippendale show?" Gene demanded as a slew of anxious faces glanced at him, embarrassed to have been sprung in their ogling. Even Alex had been staring. "_Good,"_ Gene said crossly, "Maybe we can do something worthwhile now. Like finding out who set up these bloody _indoor fireworks_ here."

"Well _this_ seems to connect Leila with the first incident," Alex flapped the papers a little, "but she can't have been working alone clearly."

"If the two are connected," said Marci.

"They've got to be connected," Simon put his hands in his pockets and shuffled a little on the spot, "come on, the pattern's obvious."

"Is someone targeting them because they are under our remit?" Alex wondered out loud, "or are they trying to attack _us?"_

"One step at a time here, Bols," Gene told her, "keeping the other polling stations in one piece is priority number one. Telling Leila we've been doing our homework and asking if she expects to pass _this_ off as _hers_ is priority number two."

"Let's pay Leila's family home a visit," Alex suggested to Gene, "Marci, you and Eddie take this and head back to the station," she handed Marci the papers, "finish your interview. See what she has to say about her browsing habits."

"Dawson, have a word with our friendly neighbourhood bomb disposal expert," Gene said as he watched a man emerge from the building with some wires in his hand, "see what he can tell you about the device. What it was made of, what went wrong, which airfix kits some kiddy's stuck together in the wrong order to make it smoke and die out."

"Right," Jake nodded.

"What about me, Guv?" asked Shaz.

Gene felt a little strange giving Shaz instructions. It had been hard enough seeing Shaz – a _different_ Shaz – _Shaz part 2_, coming back into their lives in the first place.

"You, Miss Granger," he began, "can wait for Batman to change his super-suit and between you take yer mutts round the other stations, make sure there's nothing about to blow up like a gutful of the canteen's sprouts at Christmas."

"Yes Guv."

"What about me?" asked Simon

"I'd thought that was blindingly obvious," Gene told him. He hesitated as Simon stared on, waiting for an explanation. "Lattes. Eight of the buggers. You know how many sugars I require to keep me finely tuned gears running."

Simon groaned and hung his head.

_"Yes, guv,"_ he mumbled.

As the gathering disbanded and Eddie finally released himself from the tape Gene felt strange and oddly disturbed. It wasn't just the incidents that were worrying him. They had leads to chase up and avenues to pursue. He was confident they'd find the truth and catch whoever else was involved. But there was something beyond that, something darker like a stormcloud rolling in that he couldn't yet see.

He tried to shrug off that feeling. He tried to put it to the back of his mind. He was just paranoid, that's all it was. He was just getting back into the swing of things after all. Today it was walking without his cane, tomorrow he would get over the strange feeling of paranoia that he just couldn't shake. He felt like Dick Van Dyke predicting the onset of Mary Poppins.

"That's all I need, some bloody toffy-nosed bint floating down on her umbrella, making me pens all jump around me desk to tidy themselves up," he mumbled to himself, glad that Alex hadn't heard him. He was one step away from dancing with animated penguins and skipping across the roof with a troop of chimney sweeps.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Go vote in my poll! :D**_


	12. Chapter 11: Are We There Yet?

**Chapter 11**

Kim didn't even attempt to muffle the belch she gave as she finished her second black coffee of the journey and let the empty cup fall to the floor. She couldn't help but think how Gene would have had a fit if he'd known she'd left rubbish on the floor of his precious Fiat but that was just too bad. They were cluttering up the dashboard and she couldn't see where she was going.

She frowned at the satnav as a rather condescending woman told her which way to turn. She almost slapped the damn thing, she didn't like it, never had. She'd never even used a satnav until recent months. Robin had put his into the Fiat when they travelled to Manchester in the hope of helping Alex home and it had just remained there afterwards.

Shit. Now her mind was back on their last trip to Manchester. She shook her head and tried to dispel those thoughts. A vague whisper from behind her made her glance around but there was no one there – of _course_ there was no one there, who had she expected? A naked David Mitchell?

Her imagination was running away with her. That was quite enough of that; she needed to get her mind back on the road ahead. _Focus, Kim_. She reached out and switched on the radio. Some music to fill the air would be a good idea. Less room for voices in her imagination that way. It seemed like _less_ of a good idea when _Don't Fear the Reaper _began to play, however.

"Bollocks," she mumbled, thwacking the radio to change the station, joining a news bulletin halfway through.

"…_when a dog from the crowd ran in the path of famed Beard Model and erotic novelist Evan White and snatched the torch from his hands…"_

"Oh for _fuck's_ sake," Kim mumbled as the newsreader continued.

"_..Mister White is currently in hospital awaiting emergency treatment. His fans are keeping an all-day vigil round his chin."_

"_Ugh!"_ Kim cried, changing the station again. This time some non-descript piece of pop malarkey came on so she just left it playing; it was offensive enough that it kept her awake with annoyance but not offensive enough to make her want to run the car off the edge of a cliff. Just the right amount, in other words.

She turned her attention back to the road ahead. _Shit_, it felt like just yesterday that she'd been driving that same route taking turns with Robin; Alex sat in the back with all her maps and plans and goodness knows what. She felt a little nauseous at the memory. It was the journey that started a chain of events that she would rather forget.

The radio seemed to splutter a little and the signal died out. _Must have been entering a different station's range,_ Kim thought t herself, but as she tried to pick up another station she found that the radio was picking up very little. Few fizzes, a few bolts of static and that was about all, until almost as soon as he stopped trying a blast of a sing burst forth

_#…I'm stuck with a valuable friend_

_"I'm happy, hope you're happy too"_

_One flash of light _

_But no smoking pistol…#_

"What the fuck?"

"_Oh, I hate this song."_

The voice came from behind Kim and the shock of what she heard almost made her heart stop dead in her chest. Her eyes rose to the rear view mirror and a face stared back at her. A familiar face; someone she knew so very well but couldn't have been farther away. That did it, her heart _definitely_ stopped this time as the road ahead was forgotten and she spun around to face the backseat gasping her name –

_"Alex –"_

But in the second that her eyes were on the seat she could see it was clearly empty, as empty as the second that she set off from the car park. In the very next second a cacophony of horns beeped her out of her shock and dragged her back to the real world as she realised quite how close she'd come to charging right into an oncoming lorry.

"_Shit!"_ she gasped as she slammed on the brakes, listening to more angry beeping from the drivers around her, passing by, whizzing back and forth going about their merry way without a clue what she had just been through.

Clutching her palm to her chest she stared at the back seat and panted for breath. There was definitely no one there now but she'd seen her… she'd heard her too. It was Alex; she'd know that voice anywhere. She'd know that _face_ anywhere. _Shit_. Was her heart supposed to be racing that fast? She wasn't sure. She could feel it thumping against her hand. What was she supposed to do for shock? Was it something about sticking your head between your legs? No, that was just Gene Hunt's emergency cure for things. Maybe a sip of scotch would do the trick. Yes, that would definitely help she decided as she reached for her flask. Her trembling fingers gripped it and pulled it from her pocket but as she began to unscrew the lid she hesitated. Staring back at the road she imagined getting pulled over and breathalysed. Shit, that would be no good.

Swearing she tossed the flask to the floor and kicked it under her seat, out of the way of temptation. Her heart was still racing but she could see full well there was no one there; And she _was_ tired, she knew that, and the weird visions on the TV screen of the night before must have been playing on her mind, that was all it was.

She took a few more moments to collect her thoughts before as she started the car again and began her journey once more. She'd been driving for several minutes when she realised that the radio had switched itself off. When had _that_ happened? She couldn't remember but then again she'd been somewhat distracted.

She tried very hard to keep her focus on the journey. _Deep breaths,_ _Kim. Just take a few deep breaths. Calm down. You'll be there in an hour or so. The sooner you can get there the sooner you can get back._

She knew very little about what was expected of her when she arrived. Someone _had_ called her in the early part of her journey to give her some more information but even so it was only the bare bones of the case; the station she was supposed to report to, the name of the DCI who she needed to consult with, the fact there was a hotel room booked in her name so they were expecting her at least overnight and the fact that the bars and clubs on Canal Street had now been banned from ever allowing themed _Evan Nights_ to take place again.

She kept clearly focused on the road ahead, counting down the minutes and the miles. She wished the journey could just be over already, her back ached and her bladder was about stretched to capacity. She needed a piss, a walk and an escape plan to get away from the city. She just hoped she wouldn't have to go anywhere near the jewellers.

The sound of her phone made her growl with frustration.

"Damnit damnit _damnit,"_ she mumbled, keeping one hand on the wheel and using the other to pop her earpiece in. Surely that totally defeated the point of the law about not using a mobile phone while driving? She finally wrestled it into place and answered the call. "Stringer?" There was a crackle on the line as though she had a really bad connection. "_Hello?"_

It took a moment but eventually a voice came on the line.

"_Kim?"_

"_Molly?"_ Kim frowned. What was the girl doing calling her? "Is everything alright?"

She heard Molly giving a tense sigh on the line.

"_I had to talk to you,"_ she began, "I was watching the -" there was a little interference on the line, enough to drown out a few of her words, _"…saw Evan and the dog, his beard…"_ more static.

Kim sighed.

"Molly, Mols, listen," she began, "he's fine, he's having emergency treatment to preserve as much of the beard as possible.

"_No, no, I meant I –"_ Molly's words were drowned out as her phone crackled again. Kim frowned and hit the device a few times. Yes, she knew full well that didn't really make things work but it was worth a try.

"Hello? Hello, Molly?" she fiddled with the earpiece, "are you there?"

There was some buzzing and Molly's voice came back.

Ffffzzzzzztttt…

"…_how it sparks off a memory sometimes when you see something?"_

"Molly, I think I missed the important part of what you said," Kim couldn't keep her concentration on the road and the disjointed call at once. She considered pulling over but she really just wanted to get up there and back as soon as possible.

"_It was when I saw him on the news,"_ Molly continued, _"It brought –"_ more fizzing.

Kim pulled a face slightly as the static hurt her ear

"Look, Mols I'm on the way to Manchester," Kim tried to explain, "I can't talk at the moment."

"_But it's important,"_ Molly said urgently_, "mum was –"_

Kim felt her nerves rising as the static came back.

"What? What about your mum?" she whispered, the memory of the ghostly vision behind her still fresh.

"…_And there was fire and it was really hot,"_ more of Molly's words came through, _"But she was –"_

Kim tried to make sense of Molly's words but the static ruled the day.

"I'll have to call you back," she said.

"_No!"_ Molly cried, "It's really important. _You were –"_

_Ffffzzzzzttttt, crackle. _Kim shook her head. What the hell was wrong with her reception?

"I'm an hour away, I'll call you when I get there."

But either Molly hadn't heard her or she didn't care. Even though Kim had missed chunks of it she carried on with an anxious tone.

"…really worried because…. and because of Sam Tyler, I…"

"Sam _Tyler?"_ Kim felt a strange shiver travelling down her spline, "What the hell is this about Sam Tyler? Is this about Evan and the book again? I've told him straight, I am not giving him a bloody conclusion."

"_..NO!"_ Molly was getting frustrated, "_it was you…"_

"What was me?"

_"…saw you….._ FZZZZZZZZTTTT…. _Definitely because I remember your boots…"_

"You want my boots?" Kim groaned, "Look, I'm about to stop to fill the car –"

"…_so scared because… _Fzzzzzzztttt._.. And it was so high..."_

"High?" Kim frowned, "Molly, have you taken something?"

_"No!"_ cried Molly, "_are you listening to me?"_

"Molly, Mols," Kim just had to talk all over Molly. They were getting nowhere, "listen. I can't hear you properly. The line is breaking up. I need to fill the car and get to Manchester. When I can I'll call you back, OK?"

"_But you –"_

Kim had to cut the call. She felt bad about it but there was nothing else she could so. She couldn't make head nor tail of the girl's words and was losing concentration. It was hard enough driving when her hands were starting to shake. Was it through the lack of alcohol or from the weird call? She couldn't be sure.

Had to focus had to get her attention back on the road?

She passed a sign and knew she was getting closer now. The satnav patronisingly told her where to go next and she wanted to go a different way just to spite it, but reined in the urge. Finally she felt as though she was focusing again and started to put anything else out of her mind. _Get up there, solve the case, get back_. They had been very close to pinning down the gang as it was. She was sure that with the help of the Manchester constabulary the _Booze Burglars_, as one of CID had affectionately named them, would soon be behind bars.

But then, there it was. She hadn't been expecting it. She didn't know Manchester very well at all and certainly didn't realise where she was driving. She'd come for the other side of it, the direction she wasn't familiar with, so the sight of the jewellers where Robin had been shot came as a very nasty surprise.

"_Shit,"_ she mumbled as she felt a horrible sense of darkness wash over her. She kept her eyes well away from the building as she drove on, refusing to even let herself think about it,

_Almost there._ She was almost there.

Just let the miles and the minutes pass by. Soon it will be over.

Just don't think about it, don't think about Manchester.

_Don't think about what it means._

- Click –

_#...And I feel like I'm breaking up, and I wanted to stay_

_Headlights on the hillside, don't take me this way_

_I want you to hold me, I want you to pray_

_This is bigger than us…#_

The song came blasting out at top volume; so loud in fact that it took Kim a moment to realise what she was listening to and the second she did it felt as though she was going to throw up or pass out or both at once.

"_Shit, no,"_ she slammed on the brakes and reached out to batter the radio into silence but the music stopped playing of its own accord before she had a chance.

At the side of the road with cars storming past, beeping at her once again, she breathed heavily and tried to keep herself from panicking or screaming. She shook her head violently. That song only led to tragedy, every fucking time.

She stared at the satnav. She wasn't far away now. She just had to keep going.

_Don't think about Molly, don't think about Alex and don't think about that bloody song,_ she told herself angrily.

But she already knew she would fail on all 3.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I'm sorry I haven't updated anything all week. I have completely lost all inspiration right now. Writing this chapter was like pulling teeth. I am about to move imminently, the end of this upcoming week. Thank you so much to anyone who is still reading, I am so grateful for your reviews and messages, I will catch up on the other side of Manchester if I can't do it before.**_

_**Ranty, I have updated! See! May I have my reward now? *flutters eyelashes***_


	13. Chapter 12: The Knicker Drawer

_**A/N: I guess I count myself officially back from moving hiatus now that I've updated my main fic. Thanks for your patience in the last few weeks. There's been a fault with the phone line so we still don't have our broadband on yet but I am slowly getting there. I'll be updating my other fics in the next few days then concentrating on this one. I hope you're all well and don't forget to review if you enjoy this chapter**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 12**

Mrs Geddes had _not _been delighted by the arrival of Gene and Alex on her doorstep. She hadn't wanted to see _anyone _on her doorstep, let along a large chunk of Fenchurch East CID. News that her daughter was currently at the station had made the woman explode as violently as anything that Leila had kept in her backpack.

"See the thing is, Mrs Geddes," Gene began, pacing around her lounge, peering nosily at the photographs on the mantelpiece, "I'd love to believe that your daughter is a perfect angel but her computer background tells a different story."

"Internet history," Alex corrected him before turning to Leila's mother. "Mrs Geddes, I understand how difficult this is for you,. No one wants to believe the worst of their children. But there are witnesses that place her at the scene shortly before the explosion and records of her internet usage prove that she had been researching the methods for making a small device."

"She had homework!" Mrs Geddes protested, "don't talk to Leila, talk to that bloody _tutor _of hers . I didn't approve. Not from the start. _Extra homework_, she said. Always trying to impress."

Gene and Alex glanced at one another.

"In what way, _impress?" _Gene asked.

"Oh come on, you know what teenagers are like," Mrs Geddes folded her arms defensively, "he's got a fancy car, fancy shirts and gives her As for her essays. She's got hormones coming out of her ears. They _all _have. He's got most of his class hanging on his every word."

"As much as I wish I could get into the mindset of a teenage girl I'm afraid I do _not _know what teenagers are like," Gene told her.

Mrs Geddes turned to Alex.

"Do you have children, DCI Drake?" she asked.

The question caught Alex off guard and her heart had never managed to sink so fast. She froze on the spot and closed her eyes before taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"My family is not the question here, Mrs Geddes," she said in slow, measured tones.

"If you did you'd understand what it's like when someone comes in and makes an accusation that goes so deeply against everything you know about them," Mrs Geddes said, talking all over Alex's point, "Leila is my daughter. She's seventeen years old. I know her better than anyone. So she did a few extra homework assignments. So what? That should be receiving praise, not a prison sentence."

Alex sighed and tried not to speak out of turn. She knew she was oversensitive on the matter and luckily Gene spoken for her.

"Not saying you don't know her best, Mrs Geddes," he said, "just saying you might not know everything. Need to take a look in her room."

Mrs Geddes tried desperately not to cry. Her home, her privacy and her family had been invaded.

"Why don't you just take a crap in my shower while you're up there?" she called after them as they made their way up the stairs.

""No need, love, had one this morning," Gene called back.

~xXx~

Alex was uncharacteristically quiet as she walked slowly around the teenager's room. It wasn't unlike what she'd been expecting. There were posters of _Ash _and _Dodgy _on one wall, _All Saints _on the door and a collection of photographs on a cork notice board by the bed. She slowly scanned the rest of the room, taking in every detail; the purple patterned duvet, the outfits hanging on the wardrobe door, the large floppy bear sitting on the bed and the CDs next to the small stereo.

A sudden hand on her shoulder brought her out of her daze.

"Bolly."

Gene didn't have to say anything more than that. That was more or less his '_I'm worried about you' _signal and Alex knew it. Just because he didn't put it in plainer terms didn't mean that she couldn't see it.

"I'm OK, she said quietly, forcing a smile.

"Yer pale face tells another story," Gene told her and her eyes turned downward just for a moment.

"Sorry," she said quietly. She took a deep breath as she continued to look around her. "Molly…" she began before flinching at even using her daughter's name, "this girl, Leila… she isn't much older than Molly is now, A year? Two?" she shook her head. "I'll never know what Molly will be like as a college student," she said quietly "I'll never know how she does with her GCSEs. I'll never know what subjects she studies for her A levels or if she goes to university."

Gene grunted. He wasn't good at handling conversations about Molly. He felt out of his depth, even more so after his encounter with some version of the girl in whatever bizarre world his coma sent him to.

"You'll never have to watch her building small explosive devices either," he tried to joke but the comment couldn't have fallen any flatter. Seriously, what did he _expect? _He sighed and extended his arm around Alex just for a moment. It wasn't something that came naturally to him even now and his hold was somewhat stiff and awkward but it seemed to do the trick as Alex turned around and closed her eyes as she laid her head briefly to his chest.

"I think about them all the time," Alex whispered. Gene knew who the other half of '_them' _was. In truth, his mind went back to their baby constantly. Just because he didn't talk about it, didn't mean that she wasn't on his mind.

"I know," he said gruffly.

"Do you think about her too?" Alex whispered.

Gene froze up for a moment, in serious danger of letting his guard down.

"Bolly, this isn't the time," he said stiffly.

"It never is," she said quietly as she pulled away. Gene flinched. She was right, he never made time for it, The conversation had been hanging in the air ever since Alex returned to his world but he hadn't been ready to talk about it. He was getting there, slowly, but it still wasn't the time. He knew that Alex needed to talk it through, he knew that she was hurting inside and needed to get some of the tearful words out but he needed to be ready. The day would come, but he wasn't there just yet.

He didn't want to look at his own failings right then. There was a case at hand and they had to concentrate so as he watched Alex walk away from him he turned to as shelf and began to pull out books at random. He flipped trough a couple of them.

"Thought teenage girls were supposed to hide these in their knicker drawer," he commented as he leafed through what was clearly a highly explicit romance novel.

"If she's got that on the shelf I dread to think what she's got hiding in _there _then," Alex commented, accidentally stumbling upon the knickers drawer at that exact moment and discovering for herself. She turned visibly pale. "Dear god, it's like being back at Kim's," she swallowed, "so much for little miss innocent," she cautiously pushed the offending items to one side . "Aha."

"What now?" asked Gene, "a small brothel?"

"Not quite," said Alex, "the girl's diary." she opened the first page and began to flip through it with a frown. "Shit."

"Full o' torrid secrets?" Gene asked.

"Full of nothing," Alex corrected. She went back to the beginning and read, "_January the first: In this diary I am going to record all of my deepest thoughts, dreams and plans." _she flipped the page, "J_anuary the second, had egg sandwiches for lunch." _she flipped through the blank pages, "That's it."

"I guess she didn't have that many thoughts dreams and plans then," Gene commented as he pulled another book from the shelf. As he opened it a collection of photocopies fluttered to the floor, "Well well, what's all this?" he wondered as he scooped to pick them up. He studied them for a moment, each one a murky, unclear copy of a different newspaper cutting, "general election nineteen eighty seven. So much for teaching the youth of today the importance of _current _affairs."

"Let me see those," Alex said with a frown, taking some of the cuttings from Gene. Her eyes scanned the scandalous headlines and her frown deepened. "This is taking an interest in politics to extremes, she said.

She stared at Gene and he stared back .

"This case is not so much cut and dried as cut and blown," he said as he handed her a sheet headed with '_LOCAL GOVERNMENT HOPEFUL SHAMED BY NIGHT WITH ESCORT." _

It might not have been what they were looking for but they both had a feeling they'd found some information that was explosive in its own right.

~xXx~

Robin finished fastening the buttons on his fresh, clean shirt and smoothed down the material. Hr couldn't have felt more uncomfortable le if he'd parked his backside on Sonic the Hedgehog. He wasn't used to this level of attention, or attention at all, from anyone. He'd spent his life happily blending into the background. The fact that a few tattoos and a year at the gym had turned him into the local pin-up made him feel extremely awkward.

He glanced around at Jake was finishing his conversation with the bomb disposal expert and was now carrying a smouldering piece of ex-bomb at arm's length. _Shit_, no one had ever had a crush on him before and he wasn't sure how to deal with Jake's. He'd certainly dealt with it as badly as was humanly possible so far.

Jake wasn't bad looking, Robin couldn't deny that. Would he have been Robin's type? Robin wasn't really sure if he _had _one. Jake was pretty far removed from Simon, that was for sure; darker hair and eyes, less defined features, he didn't have the lankiness that Simon had either, being of about Robin's height . Simon towered over most in the station and although he wasn't quite the skinny lad he used to be his height still made him resemble the station's resident giraffe.

"Sir?"

A voice snapped Robin out of his thoughts as he turned to see Shaz beside him, hands firmly grasping at the lead of her dog. _Shit_, the torture never stopped for Robin. Even here in his work there were reminders of what he couldn't have. It grated on him every time he saw Shaz and recalled the night he fell for Kim as she spoke with such deep emotion about the only time she had ever been in love. It got even worse as he stared at the dog, knowing Shaz had named her after her 'dead' girlfriend.

"Yes?" he said with a sigh.

"The Guv says we need to take the dogs to the other polling stations and make sure they're clean," she told him.

Robin nodded. Her suspected that was the next step and even if Gene hadn't ordered it then he was going to make it his next priority.

"Alright," he said, "you take station number five in the plan. I'll take station six, then we'll converge at station three." he looked up as Jake approached, the bomb parts still held at arm's length.

"Found out a few facts, sir," he said, trying not to picture Robin's bare torso in his mind, "looks like a rookie mistake, parts assembled in the wrong order, enough to smoulder a little but not enough to detonate. Real amateur job."

Robin nodded as he peered at the wires and smoke.

"Any idea how much damage it would have caused if it had exploded?"

"Abut the same as the first," said Jake, "enough to decommission a room or two. It might not have blown the place sky high but the damage would have been bad enough to blow a hole in the roof and bring a halt to the voting."

"Then we'd better head off fast," Robin told Shaz, "before any more buildings find themselves with an unexpected skylight." he glanced at Jake who was looking a little awkward. "Where are you heading?"

"Don't know," Jake said nervously, "The guv sent Marci and Eddie back to the station to continue their interview and they've got the car.

"You can come with me," Robin said, trying not to sound uncomfortable.

Jake threw Shaz an urgent glance, begging her desperately to remove him from the most awkward situation he had ever been in and it took a moment for her to get the hint.

"Uh," she began hesitantly, "it's alright, sir, he can come with me."

"I'll be heading closer to the station than you," Robin told her,. He turned to Jake. "I can drop you off to rejoin team yellow."

Jake closed his eyes for a moment and begged for the ground to open up and swallow him.

"That's alright, sir, I should integrate more with the canine division anyway."

"I'm _head _of the canine division," Robin pointed out and Jake swore internally. He hadn't thought that one out very well. He opened his mouth to protest but Robin looked nervous and cut him off. "Please? Cleat the air."

"Nothing to clear, sir," Jake said uncomfortably but as Robin opened the door of the car he found himself gravitating towards it. A lengthy car journey with Robin was the last thing he wanted but he wasn't very good at challenging authority so with a sigh he got into the car and prepared for further humiliation. If he survived without his cheeks melting it would be a total fucking miracle."

~xXx~

Kim pulled up outside of a familiar building. The rest of the journey had passed uneventfully but her mind hadn't been able to leave the strange events that she'd seen and heard; the glimpse of Alex, Molly's call. The radio, the song - and now that she had arrived in Manchester there was an added complication.

"Great," she mumbled as she peered out of the window, "_Sam Tyler's splat zone,"_

Of all the places. Of all the stations in the city. This was the one she happened to be sent to. _Great_. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore how badly her hands were shaking. She quickly reached for her flask and took a long swig. _Shit_, she seriously had turned into Gene Hunt, hadn't she? She cursed herself for it, continuously angry at herself for her own behaviour but not quite caring enough to change it, After all she had no one to change it _for_.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself for whatever lay ahead. Being back in Manchester stung her in her chest. It wasn't a place she wanted to return to.

She knew that not a million miles away the ashes of Alex's body were scattered alongside those of the young man that had fallen at Farringfield Green. She swallowed down the lump in her throat as she prepared to step out of the car. There was a big part of her that simply wanted to turn around and go back home but this was her job and she couldn't let her own anxieties get in the way of that. After all, work was all she had left.

One more deep breath later, she opened the door of the car. Sam Tyler splat zone or not, she had a job to do.

She didn't hear the radio switch itself on as she left the car behind, nor catch the twinkle of starlight that surrounded it. A familiar song played out and it couldn't have been more apt. Whatever was afoot, it was certainly bigger than Kim


	14. Chapter 13: Inexplicably Shippy

**Chapter 13**

Robin gave Jake a sideways glance as he looked about ready to wind down the window and jump onto the road.

"Oh come on, I'm not _that_ bad, am I?" Robin half-joked. He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or offended by Jake's behaviour. Jake, for his part, didn't know how he was ever going to get over this latest embarrassment. He should have refused the car ride and carried on doing his best at avoiding Robin. Why the hell _hadn't_ he?

Oh yeah, he thought as he took a sideways glance at Robin's profile, that's why.

"Look, Sir," he began awkwardly, "I appreciate the lift. Just drop me back at the station."

"I just want to clear the air," Robin told him.

"I thought we did that earlier," Jake mumbled into his seatbelt.

"We tried," said Robin, "but then there were bombs and stuff." He could feel his own face burning up. He really didn't know how to deal with this particular situation. As far as he was aware no one had ever had a crush on him, aside from a girl in a school nativity who hit him over the head with an inflatable sheep and cried "_I like you!" _in his face when he was six. He looked a little uncomfortable. "You've been avoiding me ever since DCI Hunt's welcome back party. I don't like there being an atmosphere."

"There's not, Sir," Jake lied, "we don't work together much. That's not avoiding you, that's working in different departments."

That was a lie and they both knew it. There were plenty of times they'd run into each other; on cases, in the canteen, in corridors, even on a night out. The fact that Jake and Marci had become good friends with Shaz also brought him into closer touch with the canine division and their paths would cross a couple of times a day.

"Jake," Robin gave a deep sigh as he tried to work out what to say "first of all… I'm really sorry I ran off after Simon… DCI Shoebury," he corrected, "and told you to stay where you were. I didn't mean to just leave you there, they made me babysit the Guv when his drink and medication sent him doolally." He noticed a tiny smirk on Jake's face from the memory, "By the time I was relieved of duty it had totally slipped my mind. I'm sorry."

"I shouldn't have just sat there like an idiot," Jake mumbled, flinching at the memory.

"And just for future reference," Robin said awkwardly, "I'm not really much of a dancer so I wouldn't have said yes to anyone. Even Fox Mulder."

Jake closed his eyes for a moment and gave a tiny smile. Robin's X-Files obsession had found new life in the late nineties where most were watching the episodes for the first time. He'd built up a reputation for himself as being somewhat psychic as he accurately 'predicted' plots week after week and his friends around the station swooned in amazement. To Robin this was the funniest thing in the world. To Simon, who was pissed off that he didn't think if it first, not so much.

"Point taken" Jake said quietly, "can we drop it now?"

Robin hesitated.

"Not…. _quite_," he said. He felt himself flushing again. "Shit, I'm not very good at this," he mumbled. He turned to Jake as they stopped at a traffic light. "I'm really flattered –"

"_Stop,"_ Jake tried desperately to kill the conversation.

"When you asked about me and Simon, I thought you liked _him_," Robin flushed.

"Not really my type," mumbled Jake.

"So it was just a shock –"

"_Please_ stop," Jake begged.

"And honestly, what I said earlier, I _do_ have someone,.."

"I get the message, you're not interested."

"I didn't say that," Robin hesitated and blushed an even brighter shade of pink as he realised how that sounded, "Shit, I mean, that wasn't what I meant…" he couldn't work out which of them was feeling more humiliated by now. Why had he even started this? "Jake… what I meant was, I'm not saying I don't like you or I wouldn't have…" he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "I _have_ someone. It's serious."

"I got that."

"But we can't be together right now," Robin choked as he said so, "she's in… she's abroad." It was as good a lie as he could think of.

Jake looked at him in surprise.

"Oh," he said, "Sorry… for some reason I didn't think you were bi."

"I'm not," Robin felt the anxiety of their strange situation returning a little, "I'm gay, and so's she for that matter…" he saw Jake looking as though something had exploded in his head. He knew how that felt. " it's… one of those things." He shook his head. "I don't know if we're… ever going to be able to be together again," there was a horrible dark sensation falling over his senses as he carried on, "but right now she's all I can think about. I keep hoping that we'll be able to be together… but I don't know what fate has in store." He saw Jake hang his head slightly." Shit, now I've managed to depress you too."

Jake gave the tiniest smile and gave a vague laugh through his nose.

"You haven't, no, you haven't," he said, "honestly." He looked at Robin, his heart sinking slightly as he focused on Robin's hand and noticed his ring for the first time. He hesitated, "So," he began awkwardly, "your… _wife?"_

"Fiancée," Robin sad a little sadly. He glanced at Jake and saw his eyes on his hand. Flexing his finger he gave a sad smile. "I know it's not traditional to have an engagement ring as a man, but…" he shook his head, "we're not really a traditional couple."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Jake said with a tiny smile. He pause. "Your fiancée. What's her name?"

"Kim," Robin said quietly shocked by how much his voice shook as he said her name.

"Oh," Jake nodded. He didn't even know why he asked the question. It wasn't like it made any difference. He tried to think of something to say, anything at all. "Like Shaz's dog."

Robin flinched.

"_Yes_," he said, a little through gritted teeth, "like her dog."

Jake nodded and turned to the window, The conversation was at an end, they both knew hat. Jake felt relieved to reach the end of the humiliation that was for sure, but there was a part of him that hoped they'd carried on for a little longer. However embarrassing and whatever Robin's marital status might have been there was more than a physical attraction as far as Jake was concerned. Forget the tattoos and the toned body, Robin had much more going on beneath the surface and with a horrible realisation Jake cursed himself.

_Shit – you've only gone and got yourself infatuated,_ he cringed.

~xXx~

"One drink."

"No."

"Just one little drink."

"How about one little fist in your face?" Marci threatened but this time Eddie saw the slightest hint of a smile. He raised an eyebrow. Maybe he was getting somewhere.

"It's Friday tomorrow."

Marci hesitated as she reached the door of the interview room. She turned back to Eddie, trying not to smile.

"I know," she said, "I'm twenty five years old. I know what comes after Thursday."

"How about we have a drink before you go clubbing."

"Who says I'm going clubbing?"

"The fact you've been clubbing every Friday night since the day you arrived," said Eddie.

Marci breathed in slowly. She didn't want to let Eddie see the smile she was trying to hide.

"I _might_ be going," she conceded.

"Clubbing, or for a drink with me?" Eddie asked hopefully.

Marci hesitated again. Ashe left a long, heavy pause before she let the corners of her mouth twitch into the tiniest smile and said curtly,

"Both."

Then, leaving Eddie in shock and suspense, she opened the door and walked through. Eddie stood there, mouth open, not quite believing his ears. He tried not to let a grin consume him as he looked into the room at the scowling face if Leila but he couldn't help it.

"Fuck," he muttered, "I think I might have pulled."

~xXx~

Alex flicked through the clippings as Gene drove grudgingly along, groaning and grumbling at every last gear change.

"When this is all over and me Aston Martin is returned to its four-wheeled status I am going to spend some quality time with her," he muttered.

"I'm starting to get a little put out by your sudden insistence at calling your car 'her'" Alex informed him, one eyebrow in the air.

"You don't get jealous of _my_ lump o' metal and I won't get jealous of _yours_," Gene told her as he concentrated on the road ahead.

"_More_ Kim jokes?" Alex frowned in annoyance, "the hilarity just never begins, does it, Gene?" She shook her head, "no wonder she was always stealing your scotch. Compensation for the mental trauma you put upon the poor girl."

"No one should have that much metal in them, Bolly," Gene told her, "not unless they happen to be the six million dollar man."

Alex tried to ignore Gene's jibes and concentrated on the photocopies in her hands.

"_Glenn Partridge,"_ she sighed, "local conservative hopeful. He'd been an active member of the party for years when he decided to try his luck. He ran in the general election in nineteen eighty seven. I _vaguely_ remember this but it _was_ a decade ago… I wouldn't have remembered if we hadn't found these."

"So this particular Partridge flew the family nest?" asked Gene.

"A week before the election, a story was leaked to the press," Alex expanded, "He'd been seen with a five-hundred pound a night escort. There were pictures… tapes… it killed his political career. His marriage broke down, he lost his family and the conservatives lost the seat. It was a disaster for the man." She laid down the papers and glanced at Gene. "If it's the man I _think_ it is he ended up jumping from a bridge and playing with the traffic on the motorway."

"Connection with tunnel-ears?" Gene prompted.

Alex shrugged a little.

"We'll see what we can find out," she said with a sigh, "and give these to Eddie and Marci. It will be interesting to see how the girl reacts to the contents of her bookshelf appearing before her."

"It's the contents of her bloody knicker drawer that worry me," Gene couldn't help but comment.

~xXx~

Kim felt a little as though she was walking through a nightmare as she found herself led through the corridors of Stopford House. She had already blanched at the sight of the memorial plaque in the car park, marking the spot where Sam Tyler's internal organs had been turned into a one-of-a-kind piece of street art. Beyond that, just the whole fact of being in Manchester was making her feel sick.

"DCI Cook has the details," the DC who escorted her through the building told her, "he'll brief you on the incidents so far."

"I like the way you say 'so far' like you've already given up hope of stopping the twats," Kim commented with a frown.

She felt a strange tingling pass up and down her spine. It wasn't like a shiver, it was something different. She tried to ignore it as she allowed herself to be shown into an office and hustled into a seat.

"He won't be long," the DC told her before he scurried away.

Left alone in the room, Kim felt somehow quite disturbed. There was something about the building something she couldn't place. Something that didn't quite feel right, she wasn't sure what it was but she didn't like it, It had started as soon as she'd pulled up outside and increased with every step to the office.

She reached for a drink but thought better of it. She needed to try to keep at least a semi-clear head if she was going to get through this and put the perpetrators behind bars. She tapped her fingers against her knee instead. Why did she have such a strange feeling? Was it the strange visions from the night before playing on her mind again? It felt like more than that.

As she sat there, darkness seemed to fall around her, just for a split second., The brightest of stars filled the black space and sent a terrible shudder down her spine before it faded away. She felt like her heart leapt into her throat and gasped in shock but couldn't do or say anything before right then the door opened and a tall gentleman stepped inside, hand stretched out, introducing himself.

Kim took a deep breath and scrambled to her feet to shake his hand, trying hard to ignore the pounding of her heart as the starlight flashed through her mind. What the hell was _happening_ to her? The stars were a thing of Gene's world, not the real world. It made no sense to her, but then little had in recent days.

There was a horrible churning deep inside of her. The stars may have faded from the ceiling but not from her mind. Whatever they meant it was never going to be pleasant and she didn't even want to _begin_ thinking about that.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I'm fighting another writing crisis. I'm going to try to be really focused and disciplined and produce a chapter every day because I have gotten into such a bad mindset about writing. I want to get back to posting something every day and enjoying it. I need prodding, and lots of it. Reviews, messages, or reminders on my tumblr (xxmisty) are all gratefully accepted. I *need* an arse-kicking, feel free to issue one.**_

_**Big shout-out and hugs to my amazing girl for being wonderful, otherwise I would have woken up to a blank FFnet profile and regret this morning x**_


	15. Chapter 14: ExtraCurricular

**Chapter 14**

There were lots of things that were getting Eddie's back up about Leila. The lopsided glare, the _better than you_ attitude, the way she chewed her tongue like it was a stick of gum… but the thing that annoyed him the _most_ was the fact that she seemed to completely ignore him and only answer Marci properly.

"Homework is certainly more interesting now than when _I_ was in school," he tried to get her interested in talking.

"When was that, nineteen fifty three?" she asked, picking at her chipped nail varnish.

"What did you want to know this stuff for?" Marci held up one of the sheets of paper and scanned the link titles. "_Going with a bang… construction of the timer... sourcing materials…"_ she laid down the sheet and looked the young girl in the eye. "Leila, this is serious stuff. It's not something you're going to be looking at for fun on a Friday night, is it? Your hobby is not reading up on different types of explosives."

"_Your_ hobby clearly isn't communicating with intelligent lifeforms," Leila muttered but at least she was looking at Marci which was more than she would do to Eddie. He tried again to engage her.

"Look, Leila," he began, "the college has given us a full record of everything you've looked for. Now, either you can tell us what you were doing using the college computers for personal use during daytime hours –" he almost cringed as he recalled the internet of the late nineties; _slow, sluggish, expensive_ – "or I can take a look at these pages and play _Match The Instructions To The Device_, see if these taught you what you needed to know."

"Not personal use" Leila said through folded arms.

Eddie hesitated.

"What?"

"I wasn't on the computers for personal use," Leila said a little too loudly this time."

"So what was it then?" asked Eddie, "doing an EPQ in designing the perfect bomb?"

Leila frowned.

"What's EPQ?" she asked.

Eddie cursed himself. _Not invented yet, Eddie, _he muttered inside his head. He tried to gloss over that mistake as he continued,

"You're not telling me this was homework."

"It _was_ homework."

"They don't teach bomb-building in college," Eddie said, desperate to add a punchline about leaving that particular skill for university but thinking better of it.

"It was just a project," Leila shrugged.

"What _kind_ of a project?" Marci asked and Leila shrugged. She stared at the table, her expression changing.

"Stuff for sociology," she said.

"What place does blowing a part of your college sky high have in the scheme of work?" Eddie asked.

"I wasn't blowing anything up!" Leila's voice rose, "I was just doing my homework!"

"What exactly was the project?" Marci asked. She watched Leila stare vacantly at a spot on the wall. "Listen, Marci, if you don't speak to us then we'll have to ask elsewhere." She paused. "Who's your tutor?" she saw a look of momentary panic cross Leila's face. "Who's your sociology tutor?"

"I don't have one," Leila said quickly.

"You just told us this was for sociology _homework_," Eddie reminded her.

"I meant _psychology_ then," Leila snapped.

Marci opened her mouth to speak but there was a knock at the door and she glanced up to see Alex looking through the window, trying to get their attention. She was relieved by the distraction - many more words exchanged with the girl and _she_ was going to be the one exploding.

"Lucky for you it looks like you've got a few minutes to get your timetable straight," she said before suspending the interview.

X

"Blimey, someone's got the tea lady riled up," Gene commented as he saw Marci's frustrated expression, "And I don't think it was Stapler Boy for once."

Eddie scowled.

"Why has that name made a reappearance?" he demanded, "and no, it's not my fault. Me and Marci are doing OK. She's even coming for a drink."

"That was a maybe," Marci scowled, annoyed with Eddie for spilling that much, "and it's seriously turning into a no."

Eddie decided it was safest to leave the subject well alone. He was in serious danger of messing up with Marci before he even had a chance to spill a drink all over her or humiliate himself by falling off his bar stool.

"The girl isn't talking," he said instead, "well she's _talking_ but not about anything useful, only using words that are in danger of sending her head for a one-way trip to the toilet bowl."

"You can't give a teenage girl a_ swirly!" _Marci cried in horror and Alex could see that whatever chance Eddie had of taking Marci out the following day was slipping away from him so she cleared her throat and thrust the cuttings towards them. "What are these?" Marci asked

"Found them in her teen nightmare of a room," Gene told them, "tucked away in the shelf like she'd put 'em to bed for the night. You might want to ask her why she's more interested in a general election from ten years ago then the one we're current failing to police efficiently."

"We spoke to her mother," Alex began, "the internet searches… they were definitely part of a homework assignment as far as _she_ knew. She told us as much. It sounds as though Mrs Geddes had a few reservations of her own about the kind of 'work'; her daughter was doing but when we pressed her she backtracked."

"Sounds like she's got a Chippendale for a tutor from the way her bloody mum was going on," Gene told them, "In my day teenage 'ormones only got you up the duff or a slap around the 'ead for yer trouble… these days they get you knee-deep in explosives and doing extra 'omework."

"You may wish to ask Leila what her interest in _this_ is," Alex said, pointing to the top cutting as Marci scanned it. A frown crossed her face.

"I don't understand, ma'am," she began, "what's some politician who can't keep it in his pants got to do with putting together a bomb and blowing up the ladies' loos?"

"Welcome to the whole point of yer career, DC Fell," Gene rolled his eyes, "You're a bloody detective, _you_ go and ask the snotty-nosed student."

"We're heading back to the college," Alex told them, "see if we can get a list of her tutors and locate the handsome, well-educated swine who's stolen a young girl's heart.

"Where's Jake?" Marci asked.

"He's not back yet?" Alex frowned.

Marci shook her head.

"I was hoping he would be back by now," se sad, "take over the interview."

"Why?" frowned Alex, "Where do you need to be?"

"Oh, not to relieve _me," _Marci explained, "To give Eddie a chance to go and fit his brain properly before he blows his chances and ends up with a personal demonstration of why he shouldn't offer swirlies to teenage girls."

~xXx~

"Are you sure this is the right way, Sir?" Jake asked a little nervously.

Robin shook himself a little and realised that he'd taken the long route back to the station. _The scenic route_. It was a fairly pleasant journey, but not exactly a good use of his time. He felt a little guilty as he worked out exactly why he'd done that. It wasn't even a conscious decision. He was just enjoying Jake's company. Even though they had only exchanged a few words since Robin had attempted and failed to clear the air he felt so grateful for having company for once that he didn't really want the journey to end.

Fair enough, he spent a certain amount of time with Simon but things were stilted between them and probably would be for a long time. Perhaps they always _would_ be. He felt as though he had to always watch his tongue around him. He couldn't talk about Kim or mention her at all. Jake on the other hand, despite the discomfort that came from their misunderstanding and from Jake's crush, Robin found himself relaxing with. That felt very strange to him. He didn't relax easily with anyone. In fact the only people he'd ever felt genuinely relaxed around were Kim, Simon back when they were together and – to a degree – Alex, with whom he found his friendship had been relaxed and comfortable.

"I'm sorry," he bluffed, "I took a wrong turning. We'll be back at the station in a few minutes."

He glanced at Jake as he shifted a little in the seat, clearly still feeling awkward about their earlier conversation. Robin wished that he could make him feel a little less uncomfortable. This was such a strange thing for Robin, to feel at ease with someone he'd only known a few weeks. He hoped that the incident at the party hadn't put paid to any form of friendship they could develop. He really liked the guy.

He realised that he wasn't paying full attention to the road as he clipped the side of a weird ceramic cow that was standing outside of an office block and cursed.

"What the hell happened _then_, Sir?" Jake cried, a little alarmed, not sure whether he was more startled by the jolt in the car or the fact that someone had a ceramic cow outside their building.

"I'm sorry," Robin apologised, "I expected the damn thing to _mooove."_ Unintentionally he turned his final word into a vague mooing noise and cringed at his stupidity but for what it was worth it seemed to make Jake crack a smile and he turned to the window, fighting a laugh. "Ohh, so _that's_ what stops you giving me the silent treatment," Robin suggested, "bad jokes."

Jake closed his eyes for a moment. He stopped trying to fight the smile and took a moment just to think about things. He didn't like being silent.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Robin began to pull into the station car park.

"Me too," he said quietly.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Jake said quietly. He paused. "Not to me anyway. The cow on the other hand…"

Robin smiled. He pulled up into a space and unfastened his seat belt.

"Where are you heading now?" he asked.

"I suppose I should check in with the rest of team yellow," Jake said with a slight sigh, "and see how they're getting on with the young Miss Geddes."

As they stepped out of the car they saw Gene and Alex heading out of the building.

"Doesn't look like things are going that well from their faces," Robin couldn't help but comment.

"You're not kidding, Jake grunted, "I suppose I'd better go." He paused. "Thanks for the lift, sir," he gave a slightly awkward smile.

Robin raised his hand as a goodbye as Jake began to walk away.

"Any time," he said quietly. He felt a strange pang of sadness as he watched Jake walk away, like he had wasted the opportunity to get to know him a little better. He really hoped that the air would clear soon. He needed a friend like Jake right then.

~xXx~

"Oh great, _you're_ back," Leila chewed on her tongue to hide her anxiety as Eddie and Marci returned to the room.

"We're enjoying your company so much we can't keep away," Eddie said sarcastically as they sat down and restarted the interview.

Leila kept her arms folded and her eyes low as she said,

"Got more questions to ask me about my psychology homework?"

"Not this time," said Marci.

"You sure?" Leila asked crossly, "or are you going to ask if I cheated and used a calculator for maths instead?"

"No, we have a _different_ subject to ask you about," Marci told her.

"Can't wait to hear what that is," Leila mumbled. Her eyes shifted upward as a bundle of papers appeared under her nose. As she caught sight if the cuttings she'd squirreled away so securely a deathly feeling came upon her while being. She swallowed and her eyes darted nervously upward. Marci and Eddie watched as she turned pure white before their very eyes. The tiniest, smug smile crossed Marci's purple-tinted lips.

"Forget sociology and maths, Marci," she said, "it's a little bit of politics mixed with a side of history that we want to know about."


	16. Chapter 15: Connect the Dots

**Chapter 15**

Kim was there in body. Her backside was parked in the uncomfortable chair. Her hands were grasping the screenshots taken from the CCTV footage. Her eyes were on the boring man who'd copied verbatim the words she'd already read in the report faxed to Fenchurch East. Her foot was scuffing back and forth on the floor in chronic boredom. All of her body - head to toe – was right there.

But _emotionally? Mentally?_ She couldn't have been further away.

"DCI Stringer?" the man's slightly sharp tone brought her back into the moment as she jumped just a little at the sound of his voice. She sat up a little straighter and tried hard to stifle a yawn.

"Yes?" she said, blinking a few times.

"Is something the matter?" he asked her, clearly suspecting that her mind was not on the job.

She stared at the man, annoying little idiot if she was honest; slightly ratty moustache and trousers that had clearly shrunk in the wash. Was there something wrong? He _could_ say that. In fact, there were _plenty_ of things that were wrong – the fact that she couldn't stop wondering how far they were from a certain jewellery shop, the fact that her hand kept wandering towards her pocket to get out her flask without her permission, the fact that she knew if she did then the disciplinary board would be in touch quicker than you can say _I'm a beard model_ – they were still on her back for what she had done to Evan after all. But of course all she did was to offer a quick, tiny false smile and a vague reassurance.

"Bar, money, gun; very interesting," she bluffed but just about managed to cover the scope of the case in three words.

The man looked slightly unsure but gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"Yes, well," he said, pursing his lips, "you seem to have grasped the facts." He pulled a sheet of paper with a crude map drawn n it to the front of the pile and laid it on top. "Here's how to get to Canal Street from here and where you'll find the bar. It's closed today but one of the barmen who encountered the gang should still be there waiting to speak to you. Some of the staff had volunteered to clean up the bar and make good the damage so that they can reopen as soon as possible but I believe the rest have left now so you will be able to go over his statement in peace."

"Don't you already have statements from this guy?" Kim asked, shuffling the papers a little.

"Well yes," the man told her, "but there will be additional questions you'll want to ask him."

Yes, Kim thought to herself, there will. _Like, for example, 'how much of a twat was that guy with the ratty moustache and the trousers that shrunk in the wash?'_

She gathered up the papers into a pile and took a deep breath as she felt herself shaking a little. Was that the need for alcohol? Or was it because she'd just realised she would need to go back past a certain jewellers again? Either way she needed to get going and get the whole thing over with ASAP.

"Thank you for all your help," she said attempting to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, muttering to herself as she left the room, "_and for your demonstration on why you should always make sure your washing machine is set to the right temperature. Bloody fool."_

~xXx~

"So what's all the interest in a general election from ten years ago?"

Leila shrugged. She was good at that. With every shrug she seemed to be eaten up a little more by her jacket, slowly disappearing more within the knitted panels. It was a little as though it was actually scoffing her for lunch. Soon there would be none of her left, just a big carnivore jacket lying where she had once been, although being eaten by her clothing would have been preferable to Leila to having those cuttings shoved under her nose by Marci and Eddie.

"I'm studying politics" she shrugged.

"According to you you're studying everything on the bloody curriculum," Eddie pointed out, "I'd hate to have your timetable!"

"Who is the man in these stories?" Marci asked, "do you know him? Is he a friend of the family? A relative?" Leila stared at the wall but this time her silence was more anxious than obstinate. "Do you know him?"

"_Did,"_ Eddie corrected as he took one of the other copies from the pile. He showed it to Marci. The cutting spoke of the suicide of the one-time political hopeful. Both sets of eyes turned to Leila.

"You do realise that there are officers and detectives finding out the identity of this man right now, don't you?" Marci asked a little more gently, "if there's any connection between you they will find it." She paused as she watched Leila's eyes dropping nervously, "Do you remember this election? You could only have been seven at the time. Bit young to take up political grudges."

"Don't have political grudges," Leila said quietly but all the fight and the sass had gone from her voice.

"Just enjoy big fireworks then?" Eddie asked and Leila immediately shut down again. Marci threw him a momentary glare and he looked suitably ashamed. He wasn't always used to when the 'bad cop' was supposed to step back. He held up his fingers in a silent apology as Marci began again.

"Listen, Leila, she said, "there are witnesses who saw you at the time and place of the explosion, your internet history is _full_ of this stuff. And now there are cuttings about anther general election turning up in your bedroom. It looks as though your interest in politics goes a little beyond the classroom, doesn't it?"

Leila bit her lip. Her eyes very slowly rose and she focused on Marci. She felt her guts churning anxiously as she realised quite how much of a corner she'd been backed into. It was impossible to talk her way out of this one, that was something she was discovering, as much as she had tried.

"Maybe I do know something about those cuttings," she said quietly.

"You don't say," Eddie breathed as he leaned back.

Leila felt horribly nauseous as she stared at the table on front of her. For the first time in her life she wished that she hadn't actually done her homework.

~xXx~

"Leila's timetable," Alex furnished Gene with a sheet of paper. The college was still in a state from the morning's blast, with parts of it blocked off, other parts turned into a makeshift polling station and numerous people wandering around just to see the damage while declaring '_well I never'_ at top volume. Luckily for Alex and Gene the college office was open and the skeleton staff happy to furnish them with as much information as they needed.

"P.E.," Gene said suddenly.

"What?" frowned Alex.

"Why doesn't anyone just do _P.E._ any more?"

Alex hesitated. She considered the question for a moment then decided it wasn't necessarily worth answering.

"Perhaps because there were not enough plimsolls to go round," she muttered as she took the sheet back from him. Gene wasn't impressed and snatched it back earning him a raised eyebrow. He flexed the sheet, cleared his throat and took a good look.

"Photography, sociology, textile design and Government and Politics," he muttered, "so either she's wrapping up MPs in homespun duvets and taking their pictures or –"

"Or the cuttings might have more relevance to her studies than we thought."

"Do they bollocks," Gene disagreed strongly, "you don't do yer 'omework and hide it on yer tio shelf. Not unless yer totally bloody paranoid that the dog really _is_ going to eat it."

"Tutor's name is Mister C. Maile," Alex read from the papers, "he's the one who takes her for politics. He'll be the one we want to speak to.

"That a suggestion or a deduction?" Gene asked.

"Leila's mother was the one who spoke of some young _handsome_ teacher " Alex reminded him, "I don't think a Mrs E. Walsh, a Mrs V. Andrews or a Miss F. Chalmers ware going to fill that role, do you?"

Gene studied the paper again. Alex was right, he thought for a moment, then handed her the sheet.

"Back in that office, Bolly," he said. "see if you can find out where our handsome Mister Maile resides."

"Yes Guv," Alex gave a tiny smile as she thought about the familiarity of the satiation. She missed this. They rarely were able to work together any more. Days like this were few and far between but highly valued.

"_No need,"_ a voice made them both jump and turn to see a tall man in a fairly smart suit behind them. Dark blonde hair fell forward over his eyes while his lilac shirt lay untucked from his sharp trousers. He looked a little like a designer beanpole with a rather chiselled jaw.

"Which party are you representing?" Gene asked, looking a little down his nose, "the monster raving _poncy_ party?"

"I have enough if politics in my day job," the man told them, "I try to avoid them on my day off if possible," he held out his hand "I'm Mister Maile, _Carl_. I couldn't help overhearing," he waited for Gene to shake his hand. When it seemed that Gene had more important matters to divert his hands to, such as scratching profusely in his ear, Carl withdrew his hand fairly quickly. "I'm… a politics teacher," he pointed to the sheet of paper in Gene's hand and indicated Leila's name at the top of it, "I'm _Leila's_ politics teacher." He seemed a little sheepish, "I heard about the incident this morning…. Well, _heard_…. _was told_… was dragged in by maths teachers with a secret desire to be private detectives."

Gene eyed him warily, taking an instant dislike to him. He wasn't sure if it was the colour of his shirt, the monogrammed briefcase or the chirpy disposition that he hated the most but altogether it made up a truly dislikeable package.

"Is that right?" he said "well in that case perhaps you would like to put yer political hat back on for a moment and tell us why you think bombs make a suitable homework topic for yer teenage harem."

"I'm sorry?" he frowned.

"Leila's internet history was full of searches about how to construct a timed device," Alex explained, "and according to her mother this was known to be homework."

Carl gave a strained laugh.

"I think the school board would frown on issuing that," he said.

"So does Leila's mum, apparently," Gene told him, "and so do we."

"It's… just as well that I _didn't_ issue that as homework then, isn't it?" Carl asked, his expression becoming more confused and anxious by the moment."

"In that case I'm sure you won't mind coming with us to answer a few questions about yer scheme of work and a certain young lady who's been indulging in some extra-curricular activities," Gene told him.

"I'm glad to help in any way I can," Carl said nervously, "but I don't know how useful I'll be."

"Neither do I yet, that's the fun of questioning, isn't it?" Gene told him, "somewhere private we can go for a little chat?"

Carl bit his lip.

"The humanities office should be empty," he said.

"Let's hope the same can be said for yer homework diary," Gene told him.

~xXx~

Kim slammed the door of the fiat with one hand while she held the reports from the Taurus Bar raid with the other. She glanced through them as she walked towards the bar. She at least felt as though she was getting somewhere now. Talking to the barman was the first step to finding those armed twats and getting back home.

She negated the '_CLOSED FOR REPAIRS' _sign on the board outside of the door and cautiously opened it.

"_Hello?"_ she called out.

The bar was dark and looked deserted. There was little remaining of the damage form the night before, an occasional broken mirror or window, a crack in a table but that was all. The staff had done a good job of putting things back together. She walked slowly through the empty bar. _Nothing sadder than that_, she thought to herself. A bar should be full of people and alcohol, not clearing up after a scary night.

Her boots clip-clopped on the shiny floor as she walked along. They echoed in the empty space. "Hello?" she tried again.

"_Be out in a minute,"_ a voice called back.

"I'm from Fenchurch East CID," Kim called out as she reached the bar, "come to ask you some things about last night."

_"Great, going through that a second time was just what I wanted,"_ the voice called as it seemed to come closer.

"I'm sorry," said Kim, "standard procedure. You were here on duty last night?"

"_That's right,"_ footsteps pottered back and forth in the background.

"Which one's your statement?" Kim asked, "what's your name?"

"_Julian,"_ the voice called back.

"Julian," Kim mumbled as she flipped through the reports "Ju- _ahh_, this must be yours. Julian Stri-" she froze mid-word as it practically leaped from the page at her. At the same moment footsteps skidded to a halt at the doorway at the back of the bar and her eyes rose to meet those belonging to voice she'd been hearing from. The eyes that met hers were familiar, yet so many years had passed since she'd last seen them. Her voice crackled as she whispered, "_Julian Stringer_," and her eyes closed involuntarily.

_Julia._

_My sister._

She swallowed as she opened them again and stared at the stricken face.

"_My brother,"_ she whispered.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I'm so sorry I've fallen way behind with PMs I'd promised, I've been really sick this week so my head's not been in the right place but I'll catch up as soon as I can x**_


	17. Chapter 16: Teach Me the Truth

**Chapter 16**

In that instant Kim understood the meaning of the phrase '_the world stopped turning' _because in all honesty that's how it felt. As her eyes locked onto the pair staring back it felt like everything around her ceased to exist. There was a strange humming in her head as her ears rang from the silence. She wasn't used to silence, especially since Robin died. There was always something on in the background to drown out her thoughts. But right there and then even if a rock concert had been blaring out behind her she wouldn't have noticed.

There was a lump the size of an ostrich egg in her throat which she tried desperately to swallow down and her hands, already shaking from the need for a drink, trembled so hard that the papers she held fluttered to the floor.

She took in every detail of the face she'd once seen around the breakfast table every morning, that she'd seen hogging the arm chair during nights in with the TV blaring out, that she'd snapped and squabbled with through her childhood. That face was quite different now. Where once there had been lipstick and eye shadow there was now nothing, instead she found a dusting of stubble and a damn trendy haircut.

Kim flashed back to her early days in Gene's world where she had finally found out the truth about her sister's disappearance. Discovering that her sister was really her brother had been the shock of her life. Finding out that her mother had secretly known for all those years caused a rift between them that was impossible to heal and although she had tried for a time to track Julian down after she'd awoken in the real world Kim didn't know where to start. He could have been anywhere, changed his name to anything – it was impossible to know.

_Manchester_. Of all places, he had to go to _Manchester_.

With her eyes, Kim pleaded silently for him to show some real sense of recognition. He'd frozen, staring back at her, but that wasn't enough. It had been so many years since they'd met; her time in Gene's world aside, seventeen years had passed. Kim watched Julian swallow, his nerves becoming increasingly apparent with each passing moment. Yes, he knew. He realised. He recognised her, it was clear to see.

"_Julian_," Kim whispered, her voice so quiet that she couldn't even be sure he'd heard. Now what? What was she supposed to do? Pass out? Run and hug him? His body language suggested that a hug would not be welcome. But they couldn't stand there just staring forever more and Kim was overflowing with words and thoughts and questions that were desperate to burst forth. Cautiously she took a step toward him, her face full of overwhelming emotions. She'd waited so many years for that moment, to see him again, to tell him that it was OK, that she had missed him so much, that she understood – but it appeared that the feeling was not mutual as the familiar face seemed to crumble in fear. In the blink of an eye Julian turned and let his feet do the talking for him, racing back out of the bar.

Kim's heart leapt into her mouth and came out as a scream, an anguished cry. She'd watched Julian walk away once before, she wasn't going to let him do it again. Her limbs felt heavy and her body shook but she couldn't leave him to run away again. Without even thinking she gave chance in an instant.

This time she wasn't going to let her flesh and blood evade her.

~xXx~

Carl tapped his fingers on a desk as Gene flipped through his teacher's planner.

"Must be yer busy time of year," he commented, "you must have a bloody orgasm on election night."

"I _teach_ it, I don't _wank_ over it," Carl frowned. Alex looked a little taken aback by his words.

"I hope you don't talk to your students in that manner, she said.

"My _students_ don't usually accuse me of jacking off over people putting a cross in the box," said Carl.

Gene studied a page and threw the planner down in front of him.

"Looks like Leila's your star pupil," he said, indicating the row of A grades in the book.

Carl gave a slightly awkward shrug.

"She's a good student," he said.

"Funny, that," Gene snatched the planner back, "because some _librarian_ friend of yours was telling us that tunnel-ears wasn't exactly destined for great things."

"She tries hard," Carl explained.

"Tries to do what?" asked Alex, "construct essays or deconstruct buildings?"

"I don't understand why I'm coming under fire here!" Carl protested, "I'm only _one_ of her teachers!"

"The only one with a sausage down yer kecks," Gene pointed out, "Mrs Geddes already had a thing or two to say about her daughter's homework habits. Apparently she thinks the sun shines out of your backside."

"What does any of this have to do with the explosion?" Carl asked.

"We already have proof that Leila was looking at websites dedicated to explosives," Alex pointed out, "Her mother not only knew about it but confirmed that it was homework."

"And I suppose the concept of a teenager telling a lie to get out of trouble isn't something you are familiar with?" Carl challenged as Gene responded to the call of his radio and stepped out of the room for a few moments. Carl turned to Alex and continued, "Surely you can see how ridiculous this all is. Like a tutor could ask their students to research bomb-making for homework. Whatever the reason behind Leila's sudden interest in making things go bang you can't pin it on me."

"How about Kate's?" Gene asked, walking back for the end of the conversation.

Carl turned.

"Sorry?"

"How about Kate Appleford's interest in making things go bang?

Carl gave a slightly anxious laugh.

"I don't –"

"She's one if yours, isn't she?" Gene picked up the planner and scanned the class lists. "'Course she is. Looks like another straight A student."

""What has Kate got to do with –"

"Uniform just picked her up," Gene explained, "See, one of the other polling stations got lucky this morning. Apparently Kate's research didn't go as smoothly as Leila's. Her fireworks didn't go bang."

Carl's faced was awash with worry and confusion.

"Well this has all got to be a mistake. A coincidence."

"Has it now?"

"Mister Maile, you might be more comfortable talking to us down at the station," Alex raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine right here," Carl said nervously.

"_I'm_ not," Gene told him, "Yer coffee's crap and I'm getting unnerved by yer bust of Bloody Mary." He nodded go one of the strange ornaments on this history side of the office. "But don't worry, Mister Man or whatever they call you, there's a nice cosy interview room with yer name on it."

Carl flinched as he saw Gene reaching for handcuffs and beginning to read him his rights. This wasn't the way he expected the day to go when he awoke that morning.

~xXx~

"So, this guy. The politician," Marci spread a few of the cuttings in front of Leila, "what's with all the interest?"

Leila shrugged and stared at them.

"Just covered it in college. That's all."

"You covered the nineteen ninety seven general election?" Marci asked incredulously.

"It's called Government and Politics for a reason," Leila pulled a face and wobbled her head sarcastically as she spoke.

"Not the biggest of topics to cover," Marci pointed out, "what big things ever came from the ninety seven general election?"

"Big tax increases," said Leila.

Marci hesitated.

"Good call," she said. She turned one of the cutting around and pushed it towards Leila. "However, this gentleman didn't get a say did he?" she noticed Leila turning away. "Are you angry about what happened to him? Upset? Do you feel that he should have had a chance around here?" `she paused, "can you at _least_ tell me what context you studied him under?" she played along. Leila glanced up. She seemed to be struggling a little now. Her breathing was starting to become erratic and her face flushed.

"Dirty tricks," she said quietly.

The sudden softening of her voice caught them both by surprise.

"What?" Eddie asked.

"I said dirty tricks," Leila's voice rose and she began to look annoyed, "It was an example of an effective modern dirty tricks campaign that lost a safe seat."

"How was it a dirty tricks campaign?" asked Eddie, "he was caught with a prostitute."

An escort," Leila hissed.

"That's more 'dirty old man' than dirty tricks."

"It was a honey trap."

"No one made him stick it in her."

"Don't be bloody disgusting," cried Leila, horrified by Eddie's tone.

"Why are you so troubled by this?" Marci asked.

"I'm _not!"_

"You don't exactly sound impartial, Leila."

"_He's_ just a disgusting _twat!"_ Leila explained, nodding at Eddie.

Edie didn't seem too put out.

"She's got me there," he shrugged.

"If this is just a piece of your coursework," Marci began gently, "then why were you hiding these cuttings between books on your shelf?"

Leila flinched and tried to breathe in but it was getting harder.

"I wasn't hiding it," she said, "I just kept them there so I didn't lose them.

"Isn't that what your coursework folder is for?" Marci asked.

"I left it at college with my homework for marking," Leila cred.

"Then why weren't these cuttings _with_ it?" asked Marci. Leila didn't reply. She didn't seem to know what to say. "Who is this man?" she scanned for the name on the cutting, "Who _is_ Glenn Partridge? Is he a relative?"

"No," Leila shook her head,

"A friend? A _family_ friend?"

"No, I don't know the man."

"But you know _of_ him, well enough to be hoarding his cuttings,"

"I keep telling you, it was _coursework!"_ cried Leila.

"Is this part of the same piece of coursework that you went searching the internet for ways to build an explosive device for or not?" Marci challenged. She caught Leila giving a gasp but she didn't speak. "What is this _really_ about, hmm? Blowing up the polling stations as part of some kind of revenge for what happened to this man, ten years ago? Trying to make a statement? Avenge what happened?" she paused as Leila's eyes widened, "how do you know this man and what _is_ he to you?" Marci paused as she heard Leila gasp again, this time more desperately, "Leila?" The girl placed a hand to her chest and her eyes opened wide. She gulped for air as though she'd ben held under water for hours. "Leila, what's wrong?"

Leila continued to try to fill her lungs with air.

_"A-asthma,"_ she managed to get out eventually.

"You're asthmatic?" Marci knelt beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders, "OK, first of all you need to calm right down, can you do that for me?" Leila didn't seem to be doing that for Marci. Her gasps were becoming more desperate and she failed to reply. "Leila, where is your inhaler?" Leila didn't answer so Marci had to ask again. "Come _on_, Leila! Don't be stupid. Where is it?"

Leila gasped again and her eyes closed tightly.

"Back-" she gasped, "_back-pack."_

"Backpack," Marci repeated "and where _is_ your backpack?"

Marci froze the second she asked the question. She turned and exchanged an anxious glance with Eddie then turned back to Leila who looked absolutely stricken. The backpack was in several thousand pieces, blasted across the campus.

"Alright, Leila, we're going to get you to the doctor," Eddie said, "Interview terminated at –"

"Oh forget that bollocks, "Marci cried, "just get the girl out of here and down to the medical room."

As Eddie and Marci helped Leila out of the interview room and to medical help it seemed as though they might just be getting somewhere. The look in Leila's eyes alone had been as good as a signed confession to the two detectives.

But the connection between the fallen MP, the impressionable college student and the exploding surprise was yet to be found.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I've been working on character portraits again, so far I've done Marci and an updated Kim (2012 Kim). I've been putting them on my Tumblr; my URL is xxmisty and they can be found under my art tag. I'll put a link on my profile when I get some time.**_


	18. Chapter 17: Flesh and Blood

**Chapter 17**

"Guv!"

Gene and Alex stopped marching Carl along the corridor at the sound of Jake's voice calling out. They turned to see him hurrying in their direction with a pile of papers in his hand.

"Later, Dawson," Gene told him, "this gentleman needs a hand with his 'omework."

"That's what I need to show you," Jake informed him, he handed Gene the papers. "Look. That girl uniform picked up? This is her web history."

Gene's eyes scanned the list of sites silently then turned to Carl who appeared to be shrinking before his very eyes.

"Well," he said, anyone would think it was firework night instead of election night."

"They must have planned it together," Carl said quickly but found his arm tugged sharply by Alex.

"I think that kind of speculation is best saved for the interview," she suggested.

"_Gene!"_

"Bloody hell, who said it's good to be popular ?" Gene groaned as someone else called for him. This time a flailing, excited Simon turned the corridor and hurtled in his direction, narrowly avoiding a severe crash into Gene. "Shoebury, you need yer brakes looked at," Gene threatened him, grasping his collar and pushing him a safe distance away but Simon wasn't even listening.

"I've got something you'll need to know about," he said.

"Rabies?" Gene suggested. He frowned and looked around, "I thought you were supposed to be selecting a variety of hot beverages for yer esteemed colleagues?"

Simon rolled his eyes.

"You think I spent all this time in Latte Land?" he challenged, "come off it, Gene, I _have_ got a brain you know."

"Open to debate," Gene told him.

"I had more important matters to think about, Simon explained as he took a sheet of paper from his back pocket and began to unfold it. "I caught up with Robin and Shaz. Heard from uniform about the evidence you found at that girl's house, the cuttings."

Gene closed his eyes momentarily.

"I'm a big fan of getting to the point," he said.

Simon carried on.

"I did some digging," he said, "yes, this poor chap died. Took his own life. The shame and the pressure was too much. He left behind a wife and a son."

Simon left that thought hanging for a few moments before his eyes turned to the teacher still in Alex's grasp. It seemed to take Gene a moment to cotton on, his eyes moving finally from Simon to Carl and then to the sheet of paper that Simon was shoving into his hands., he scanned the information about the widow and the teenage son who had adopted his mother's maiden name to avoid the taunting and the shame. His eyes rose to meet a very scared pair that only looked back at him for a split second before they moved to the ground.

"_Well well well,"_ Gene raised an eyebrow, "Shoebury, you proved the impossible."

Simon frowned.

"Anyone would have found the connection with a bit of digging," he said.

"I don't mean that, I mean the fact that you have initiative after all," Gene taunted but the feeling that he had something solid to shove down the twat's neck was bringing a grin to his face, "Simon, I could –"

Simon looked a little nervous.

"Could what?"

Gene hesitated.

"Could retract all threats of filing cabinets for a week," he said, looking for a split secondn like he was on the verge of ruffling Simon's hair like a dog. Thankfully he merely grasped the paper turned his attention to Carl and said, "looks like me and you have a few things to talk about now. And I'm not talking about the British electoral system." He gave the teacher a hefty shove down the corridor before glancing back at both Simon and Jake. "Shoebury, Dawson, there will be drinks all round tonight."

Both men looked shocked.

"There will?" Simon asked incredulously.

Gene nodded.

"As long as you're buying them," he concluded and carried on marching the teacher towards the interview rooms.

Simon and Jake watched them walking away before exchanging a glance. Things weren't exactly free and easy between them. Jake looked extremely uncomfortable as he recalled the other half of his embarrassment at Gene's welcome back party. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed internally.

"Sir?" he began awkwardly, "Can I just… have a word?"

Simon knew exactly what was coming. He shook his head a little.

"Jake, please, I don't want to go back over that," he said, "I was in a bad mood, I was feeling like the odd one out, Robin had been on at me and I jumped to stupid conclusions."

"But if I made you think –"

"You _didn't_ make me think anything," Simon said honestly, "and really, I know I must have seemed like a sulky kid at the time but I didn't even want to dance, let alone with you," He noticed a frown and a hurt expression fall across Jake's face and cringed. "Jesus, that wasn't what I meant… " he shook his head, "Can we start this conversation again?" he sighed, "Hi. You know me was Simon Shoebury but I'm thinking of changing my name to _Opens Mouth Inserts Foot."_

Jake looked a little awkward still but at least he smiled.

"Well if we're reintroducing ourselves then hi, I'm Mister _Rather Date My Reports Than People_. They're far less complicated."

"Well pleased to meet you," Simon said a little sheepishly, "Look, I keep fucking this up but, what happened at the party… I think Rob wants me to meet someone and have some… big Disney romance so he's off the hook. We were together a long time but then we –" his voice broken little – "we couldn't be together for a while… we never officially broke up and I waited but he found someone else."

"Yeah, I kind of got that talk," Jake said awkwardly, scratching at his shoulder blade.

Simon was starting to feel a bit as though they had unwittingly created a _Sad Losers' Robin's Rejects Club_ in the corridor. He shuffled a little then gave a sigh. "I'd better go. If you want a latte there's a shitload in CID."

"Thanks," Jake said with a slightly nervous smile. He was still worried that the misunderstanding would cause awkwardness and friction between them but was glad a little of the air had been cleared now. He only wished he'd never even opened his big mouth that night.

~xXx~

Leila was looking a far more normal colour now. Her skin had lost the bluish, purplish tinge that it had picked up previously and her breathing was about normal. She looked drained and exhausted but the station's doctor had provided her with a nebuliser and the right medication to get her airways clear and help her breathe again. Furnishing her with a replacement inhaler the doctor warned her of the dangers of being without her medication.

"Unfortunately Leila managed to treat the whole of the girls' loos with a dose of ventalin," Marci told him.

"She's physically fine," the doctor assured her and Eddie, "she'll be tired for a while and I recommend you give her a little time before you pick up the interview but she's fine to carry on as long you are happy for her to do so.

"Cheers," Eddie said, getting to his feet and guiding Leila up. "You heard the doc," he said, "back to the interview room. You can sit in the comfy seats for a while before we carry on."

"You're killing me with kindness," Leila tried to sneer but she looked so drained and scared that her words. She hadn't had an asthma attack since shortly after she was first diagnosed a decade earlier and had never been without her inhaler when she needed it before.

"Too soon for that joke, Leila," Marci told her quietly, helping the girl to her feet and nodding to the door. "Come on."

Leila reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and escorted out of the room. She felt shaky and exhausted and wished more than anything that she could go back to the early morning and live the day over. She kept her eyes firmly on the ground as she shuffled along but suddenly caught sight if familiar shoes and sharply pressed trousers that she had come to recognise. Her eyes scanned upwards until they met the face of the last person she had expected to see, being marched in the opposite direction.

"Sir?!" she gave a little gasp, "Mister Maile?"

All at once stares met stares; Alex and Gene glanced at Marci and Eddie, while Leila and Carl seemed to freeze in the shock of seeing one another. Finally Gene gave Carl a hard shove.

"You can check her homework another time," he said, "it's time for you to answer a few questions first"

"Sir, what's happening?" Leila demanded anxiously, "what are you doing where? Where are they taking you?"

Carl looked back at her as Alex and Gene continued to march him away.

"It's fine, Leila," he said calmly, "they want to ask me a few questions about the explosion, that's all."

"But they can't think _" Leila froze, her eyes wide, she swallowed as her heart began to beat wildly, "you can't… it's not _him_."

"Leave the detective work to those who are old enough to shove a cross in the box," Gene told her.

"He's got nothing to do with this!" Leila blurted, her voice growing more anxious with every second. Gene and Alex froze once again and turned to her.

"Oh yes?" Gene began, "so his 'omework didn't inspire yer political stand then?"

"He had nothing to do with it!" Leila cried again, "he had no idea we were…" she flinched as she realised she'd already said more than she intended to, but she supposed the truth was almost out as it was. She took a deep breath and looked at Marci. "Please… I'll tell you everything… but let him go, he had nothing to do with it."

"I'm the one with the key to the cuffs, I'll be the one to make that decision," Gene told her."

"Then decide to let him go because it wasn't his fault," Leila insisted, "It was _us_… we found out about it… what happened…and the website, it helped us to organise…"

"Hold on, hold on," Eddie held up his palm, "what website?"

"The one where I got the instructions," Leila said without thinking. She froze up and took another deep breath.

"I think," Marci said quietly, "that the tape might want to hear you repeat that."

Leila cursed herself silently and wished that she could turn back time. She'd made some decisions, some very very bad decisions and now she'd backed herself into a corner.

As she found herself dragged in one direction and Carl was dragged in the other the truth was edging closer.

~xXx~

Kim hated the way she felt as she tried to run after Julian. Her body was a wreck, totally and utterly. She hadn't even realised how badly she had gone to wrack and ruin but little by little she'd pickled herself with alcohol, starved herself of food and nutrients and began to exist on little to no sleep. Booze, caffeine and pills were the only thing that would get her through the day now. Her skin almost hung from her, her bones were sticking out and her body lacked the energy she needed to do her job, to do _anything_ in fact, including chasing after her brother.

"_Please_," she cried her voice developing an anxious edge "_please_ don't run from me, Julian. I've waited years…. I've wanted to see you again so badly…" she felt herself losing the chase as she ran through the back rooms and stockroom of the bar. "Julian! _Please!"_ she cried.

Just as she felt as though hope was lost and she could trace him no more there was a metallic clatter and an almighty scream followed by a string of expletives and she followed the noise to find Julian sprawled at the fire exit, a bucket on his foot and a mop leaning threateningly close to his head. She hesitated at the door as he turned to her, half in fear and half in humiliation. For her part Kim didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She bit down on her lip to avoid the escape of a nervous giggle and edged slowly closer.

"Julian," she whispered. She was saddened by how scared her brother seemed by her arrival and how daunted he was by every step closer she came. "Julian, please don't run from me," she whispered.

Julian stared at her, blinking as he whispered,

"I know who you are."

Kim felt her legs shake as she approached him.

"I know who _you_ are," she said.

"I've seen you on the news," Julian whispered, "I-I almost went to visit you when you were in hospital…. But I was… I just couldn't…"

Kim didn't even realise that there were tears forming in her eyes until the first one started to roll down her cheek. Her eyes were half-closed as she tried to fight the obvious emotions that were bursting forth, She had waited years for this moment and never thought it would arrive. Now that it had she wasn't sure what to say or to do, there were so many things she needed to get out but the whole thing felt so big and so daunting. All she could do was to take it one step at a time, literally and metaphorically.

She took one slow step before another. Watching the face as she encroached.

"I-I tried to find you," she whispered, "but I didn't know where to start. And in the end I thought that if it was meant to be…" she froze for a moment as the words hitched in her throat. She knelt down beside her fallen sibling and, fighting both the urge to laugh and the urge to cry, she removed the bucket from his foot and whispered, "I was just a kid and I never got to say good bye. But then, I never even got to say _hello_. Not to _you_. Not to who you really were." She noticed Julian tipping his head down a little and she turned it back to face her. " No, don't do that," she whispered, "don't do that, Don't even _think_ about saying sorry or feeling ashamed. I know why you did it, I know why you had to go… I know that you tried… I know you could never have stayed but…" she couldn't stop the tears from falling now, " but I always missed you. It didn't matter to me if you were Julia or Julian… I missed my –" she paused, trying hard not to use the wrong word, "I missed my _brother_. I missed my flesh and blood. It doesn't matter who you are on the outside. You're still _you."_

"I'm sorry," Julian was used to apologising and couldn't stop another from escaping,

"I told you not to say that," Kim whispered, a nervous smile starting to play on her lips, "because you have nothing to apologise for. Only our mother should do that."

Julian froze up for a moment.

"You know?" he trembled as he whispered, "Did she tell you?"

Kim shook her head.

"No."

"Then how did you know?"

Kim bit her lip as she remembered that dark day in 1995, watching her brother walking away.

"Doesn't matter" she whispered, "It's not important." She shook her head. "Only one thing that's important right now."

Closing her eyes and feeling a swell of love and warmth rising inside of her she reached forward and wrapped her arms around the brother who she never thought that she would see. At first she felt him struggle and try to pull away but that didn't last long because whatever had happened and however many years had passed under the bridge the hug from his sister still gave him warmth, love and compassion. As he relaxed and allowed her to hold him his eyes closed tightly and a loud, choking sob emerged; a cry that he'd been holding back for almost two decades.

As they clung to each other, crying and whispering and holding each other for dear life a gulf of seventeen years just faded away. Whatever might have happened in the interim and whoever they might have become as individuals the sibling bond was right there. It had never disappeared. And as their warm embrace proved, it never would.


	19. Chapter 18: Bridging the Years

_**A/N: Rant has worked miracles with her threat of Evan foursomes for not updating… It's only half 11 and the chapter is finished, edited and ready to post! Kim wasn't supposed to take over the whole chapter, it just happened – sorry!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 18**

Kim smiled nervously as she watched Julian limping awkwardly to the table with two glasses and a bottle of the good stuff from behind the bar. She tried not to show how desperate she was for the alcohol to hit her system. As far as Julian was concerned the shaking had to be shock. He never had to know differently. She tried not to laugh about the bucket as she asked,

"How's your ankle?"

Julian closed his eyes momentarily and bowed his head, ashamed and embarrassed.

"I'll survive," he said, "anyway, what about _you_, how's your… " he sat down nervously opposite, "…your _everything_?" he looked somewhat scared as he admitted, "I've seen you on the news, Kim, over and over, always half dead, in a coma, shot… I knew it was you the first time. I thought it was a coincidence at first with the name. But when they showed a picture…"

Kim cupped the glass in her hands and brought it quickly to her lips, downing as much of the liquid as she dared without arousing suspicion. She gave a little sigh as she peered at Julian. She remembered seeing her sister as Julian for the first tine back in 1995. There were some clear differences now. Julian no longer needed to wear binding and had clearly been on hormone therapy. He barely looked like the girl that Kim had shared a room with in her younger days and had taken her for trips to the cinema and to the shops as a teenager. But the _eyes_ – there was no fighting their familiarity.

"I know what mum did," Kim said quietly and Julian's expression froze on his face. He swallowed and lifted up his glass, taking a sip and staring into the liquid d as he replied.

"Oh."

"I'm _so_ sorry," she whispered. She could feel tears starting to fill her eyes again.

"I didn't think anyone else knew what she did," Julian said quietly. He sipped his drink and flinched a little. He wasn't used to drinking anything half that strong. But then he wasn't used to his relatives arriving out of the blue either. "I thought she was at home by herself the day I left."

That was _partly_ true. Kim found herself in a difficult position. She _had_ actually been at home the day that Julian left for good. She recalled a ring at the bell and that was about all. It wasn't until her time in Gene's world that she saw things from the other side.

"I… It's kind of complicated," she whispered, "I didn't know what happened at the time. I didn't find out for _years_. If I'd known…" she gripped the glass again, willing herself not to down the rest yet. "Julian… I wish you'd talked to me." She saw him dropping his head.

"You were just a kid."

"I was seventeen."

"Still a kid."

"I could have helped you."

"You didn't have a set of mind control equipment to change our mother," said Julian, "there was nothing you could do."

Kim gave the faintest of smiles.

"That's true," she said quietly. She bit her lip and looked at him, trying to take in every part of his face. She'd waited so many years for this moment, she didn't want to forget any of it. "when you left that day," she said quietly, "where did you go?"

Julian swilled the rest of his drink around in his glass and downed it. To Kim's delight he reached for the bottle to refill so she finished her and awaited a top-up too. She focused on the bottle as he spoke as though trying to distance himself from his words.

"I had a friend," he said, "he found work up here. Well, _near_ here. Chester. He was one of the few people who knew. He knew how miserable I was and that I could never be myself with the family. I don't mean you…" he said quickly, "mum and dad."

Kim nodded.

"I know."

"It was getting to the point where it was destroying me," he said quietly, "Mark… he could see me fading away. I wasn't eating or sleeping, I just wanted to go out and get trashed all the time to bury it."

Kim recalled running into him in a nightclub the first time she had seen him as Julian. The subject of her own wild nights back in 1995 came flooding back to her.

"Not unfamiliar territory," she whispered.

"He gave me an ultimatum. Go with him and start a new life, or stay where I was and give up. It wasn't like we were going out or anything. He was my best friend and that was it. But I needed him and he knew I needed that fresh start." He sipped from his glass again and closed his eyes. "I went to see our mother. I tried to give her one chance. She denied me. That's when I knew I couldn't stay." He placed the glass on the table with a small thud and looked back at Kim. "I had some regrets," he admitted, "of course I did. I'd have been pretty heartless if never t=thought about you all. If I never wished things had been different, Sometimes I wanted to call or write or just come and see you but…" he shook his head sadly, "the longer that passed, the easier it was t simply never be in touch again. And the harder if=t was to

contact you."

"You could have done," Kim told him, "at any time."

"I felt like I'd burned my bridges a long time ago," Julian told her, "face it, you didn't know if was dead or alive, and maybe that was the best way."

"That's an awful thing to say!"

"But 'Julia' _was_ dead," Julian explained, "_Julia_…. The person you knew… your sister… their daughter…. She… _died_… the day that I came up north.Settled in quickly. I changed my name. I took the proper course of counselling and assessment. I started on the hormone therapy. Eventually I was able to have the surgery. That's why I moved to Manchester. Better medical care."

"What about Mark?" Kim asked as she drank more of her scotch, relieved to have alcohol in her blood once more.

Julian gave a tiny shrug.

"It was one of those tragic moments," he said and Kim's heart sank in an instant.

"_Oh no,"_ she said quietly. She knew that whatever she was about to hear wasn't going to be good.

"He'd been saving up for that bike for a year. He'd always wanted a motorcycle. Bloody lorry." His eyes turned downward. "Idiot driver was too busy tugging on his string vest and putting in his thrash metal album to see him. Knocked him flying, right outside some hotel. Never stood a chance."

"Julian, I'm sorry," Kim said quietly. She reached out to touch his hand gently. She wanted to offer him comfort and support, It was the least that he deserved after all he had been through. Somehow feeling his hand beneath hers made everything so much more real. Until that point there had been a nagging thought in the back of her mind that she was imagining it, but no; her brother was truly there.

"I never really got over that," Julian admitted, "how do you get over the death of your best friend?"

Sudden pain stabbed Kim in the heart. She found herself flashing back to something that she worked hard at forgetting on a daily basis; Alex, on the barge, Layton's bullet far from fatal, Alex desperate to go home… to _stay_ home… the action that Kim had to take.

She flinched horribly and gave an audible gasp as she relived the moment that she pressed the tarpaulin over Alex's face. It was something that she went through in her nightmares. That was one of the reasons she shunned sleep so often. Now suddenly here it was in her waking thought.

"Kim?"

Julian's voice shook her from the terrible images that were plaguing her. She looked upon at him with eyes wide and haunted. For a moment she almost blurted something. She almost told him she knew _exactly_ how that felt, to see your best friend die, and that it was never something you could get over. But this wasn't the time for her to share her own trauma. This was about Julian. She needed to learn everything that she could about him.

"I'm so sorry about Mark," she said quietly."

Julian's eyes were sad.

"It hit me hard," he said, "although I'd been here a while I'd never really made many other friends. I suppose I shut myself away from people a lot of the time." He took a deep breath and straightened up. "I knew I had to do something. I took a course in hospitality. Quit my stupid supermarket job and started working here, just bar work at first, then got a promotion, organising the entertainment. Finally I feel like I'm going somewhere with my life. I love what I do." He sighed. "Aside from when a bunch of arseholes with guns come and take the profits," he said.

"I should be asking you about that right now," Kim mused.

"Are you _going_ to?"

Kim took a gulp of her drink.

"Nope," she said. She looked at him seriously and took in a deep breath. There was something that she needed to get off her chest. "I never… _quite_… forgave you for not saying goodbye to me at least," she whispered.

Julian looked a little panicked.

"You know why I had to leave," he said.

"Yes, I do know, but you still could have talked to me_."_

"You were –"

"A kid, apparently," Kim shook her head, "You know how much stuff I had been through on my own. I could have handled _that_. You could have talked to me."

"Thanks for the big cup of hindsight, honey," Julian said, a little annoyed.

"I'm not letting you off the hook just for being sarcastic you know," Kim scowled, remembering what Julia had been like through their childhood. She'd often been able to talk her way out of something with one smart line. The tough, hardened Kim wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily. "I spent years thinking you were dead," she accused, "and then after I found out the truth that almost hurt _more_… because you could have been in touch at any time and you chose not to."

"Our parents –"

"_I'm_ not our _parents!"_ cried Kim, "I haven't spoken to them for eight years because of what they did to you."

Julian looked downward. It was impossible to explain why he couldn't get in touch. It was impossible to explain how badly it broke his heart when his mother shunned him for showing her who he truly was. He had come so far and healed so much. He couldn't risk going back to those dark days. Not at all.

"Maybe… maybe if I'd known that…," he whispered. He didn't mean it. Even if he'd known that Kim had been estranged from their parents for so long he couldn't have brought himself to get in touch. But he wanted to make Kim feel a little better. And to make _himself_ feel better. He felt so guilty as he looked at Kim. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Kim bit her lip nervously. There were just so many questions that she wanted to ask him, she had no idea how to start. There were just too many. _Where did he live? Did he have anyone special in his life? How different was his life now to when they were kids?_ Eventually she picked the most important one. It was the question that made all of the others fade into the background. She eyed him across their glasses and she took a deep breath.

"Are you happy?" she whispered.

Julian stared back. The question somehow caught him off-guard. He had expected more of the frivolous questions, more of the ones that he would be able to answer with ease on the spot. If she'd asked about his home he could have described his colourful lounge and classy bathroom. If she'd asked him about meeting someone special he could have described his long-standing on-off relationship that had started to be more on than off and the holiday they were planning to take together. If she'd asked him how different his life was now he could have described the freedom and the relief he felt every day waking up as Julian. But she hadn't asked those. She'd asked the deepest question of all.

He stared her in the eye and saw everything he had missed out on, years of family life, watching his sisters growing up, sitting by Kim's bed when she'd been so horribly injured, celebrating her engagement, cheering her on as she achieved her promotions. But he'd had to sacrifice that for his own happiness. His own sanity. His own life. And that made it worthwhile.

Very slowly, he nodded. Then a smile began to grow.

"Yes," he whispered, "I am. Very."

Kim felt warmth growing around her heart. As she looked into Julian's eyes she saw something she never remembered seeing through their childhood. _Contentment. Security. Peace._ Her lips twitched into a tiny smile and she nodded very slowly.

"That," she whispered, "was all I needed to know."


	20. Chapter 19: Hard Lessons

**Chapter 19**

Carl's smile was nervous and hesitant as he sat in the interview room, fiddling with his fingers, interlinking them and pulling them apart again.

Gene was pacing. Carl didn't like that. He didn't like Gene full _stop_ but a pacing Gene suddenly became several times more threatening than a stationary one. Add to that the fact that Alex was sitting directly opposite him with a confident, knowing smile upon her face and an expression that left him in no uncertainty that she meant business, he wasn't feeling confident.

It was a reminder of how well Alex and Gene worked together that they seemed to have so much extra strength and power than when they worked individually. They always _had_ been a force to be reckoned with. Of course things were different now and their work only brought them together on the job once in a blue moon, but luckily this was one of those times.

Alex stared at Carl, her hands linked casually on the table before her and her confident expression doing its best to shake the man.

"Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" she raised an eyebrow, "Leila and Kate… you set them some interesting homework."

"Look, I don't know why you're still talking to me about this," Carl began anxiously, "Leila's already told you I had nothing to do with it."

"Funny thing is, we don't feel that comfortable with teachers that give their students the knowledge to blow a bog sky high," Gene said, coming to a halt beside the table and staring Carl in the eye.

"It wasn't homework," Carl said, "it was an extra assignment a few of the students chose to take on for politics club."

"_Politics club?"_ Gene repeated, "well, doesn't that sound like a laugh a minute? Why spend yer lunch hour kicking a ball and stuffing yer face when you can be stuffing the ballot boxes and kicking the opposition?"

"It helps the students to improve their grades!" Carl protested, sounding angrier now, "it's only called a club because it's out of school hours!"

"And the best way to improve their grades is to blow up their place of education, yes?" Alex asked.

"_No!"_ Cried Carl, "look, it was a project about the dark side of politics… everything from dirty tricks to terrorism. It was just one of the topics they could have investigated. "

"First one on yer list by the look of it," Gene said as he took a sheet of paper from Carl's planner, "and the first resource you've given is Tunnel ears' website o'choice. Funny that, isn't it?"

"Exactly how many students are _in_ this club, Mister Maile?" asked Alex.

Carl shrugged.

"I don't know… as many as want to come… varies from week to week."

"Looks like attendance has picked up though," Gene commented as he found the list of students who had been in the last few weeks.

"Word gets around, clubs become more popular," Carl told him.

"Only the interesting ones," said Gene, "attendance wasn't going to increase if you all sat around playing _Pin The Arse on John Major."_

"And by Arse I take it you mean Edwina Currie?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Look, how is _any_ of this relevant?" Carl protested.

Gene studied the list of names

"Some of your _club_ have familiar names," Gene commented. He laid down the sheet and turned to Carl. "see, we picked up a few others this morning. Leila and Kate might have been the star attraction but the other polling stations saw their share of action."

"Classy distraction technique," Alex said calmly, "faking a fight at one station while another showcased some indoor fireworks."

"Once we'd got their masks off and found out they weren't _really_ members of the current and shadow cabinets," Gene began leaning on the desk, "turned out they were fairly young. _Students_."

"Who else is involved, Mister Maile?" Alex asked, "are all the students on this list a part of this?"

"Leila told you, I have _nothing_ to do with it," Carl said through gritted teeth, "whatever those foolish teenagers had planned, it was nothing to do with me."

"So you just gave them the ammunition, fired them up and watched them go then?" Alex asked.

"What about yer daddy?" Gee asked, "Mister Wronged MP?"

"My father never _made_ MP," Carl hissed.

"Which is what this has all been about."

"Blowing up a college toilet and disrupting the votes isn't going to bring back your father," Alex told him.

"I bloody know that!" cried Carl.

"Nor will it avenge what happened to him."

"Well maybe the _students_ don't see it that way," Carl's cheeks began to burn red.

"Did you give 'em the sob story?" Gene asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Tell them about yer political pa?" Gene explained.

"I can't help what comes up in the curriculum," Carl hissed.

"See the thing is, I'm not sure it's actually _part_ of the curriculum," Gene told him, "Unless it's a part of the _Carl Maile curriculum for yer special straight A students."_

"They didn't know who he was," Carl insisted, "I told them the story, I _had_ to, it was part of the lesson plan, but they had no idea. I swear. Ask Leila."

"Oh, I guarantee you they'll be asking her that very question right now," Gene warned.

Alex leaned back and folded her arms.

"It's always Leila," she said, "isn't it?"

Carl frowned.

"_What's_ always Leila?"

"You know we have more of your students in custody but you're relying on Leila to get you off the hook."

"Because she was the one I passed in the corridor!" Carl told her, "she was the one who said she would tell you everything!"

"It's not… 'ask Kate' or 'ask the students', it's always Leila."

Carl narrowed her eyes.

"Exactly what are you suggesting?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Alex smiled, "Nothing at all"

"Yes you are," Carl cried, "you're insinuating my relationship with Leila is less than appropriate!"

"I didn't say that."

"More or _less_ did."

"That sounds like a guilty conscience at work," Gene commented."

"There is nothing inappropriate happening between myself and Leila," cried Carl.

"You seem extremely defensive, Mister Maile," Gene commented.

Alex smirked.

"Perhaps we should… _ask Leila"_ she suggested.

~xXx~

"Alright Leila," Marci's voice was serious but soft. The girl in question was lacking her sassy, brash edge and had been reduced to a far more anxious and vulnerable version of the teen that they took in a few hours ago, "I think it's time you gave us a proper explanation." She watched the girl rub at her eye as though wiping away the threat of a tear. "You just told us outside that your teacher wasn't involved in the explosion. You said that you would tell us everything. Now's your chance."

Leila drew in her breath. She was relieved that she could even do that again for a start. She stared at the table as she began quietly,

"I just wanted to _do_ something."

Marci hesitated.

"Go on."

"After what happened to his family, I wanted to make a stand."

"Blowing up bits of your college just because it happens to be used as a polling station isn't the best way to do that," Eddie pointed out, "how was that going to help your teacher? It wasn't going to bring back his father, or relaunch his political career, was it?"

"We just wanted to disrupt the voting, that's all," Leila said, her jaw clenched, "mess things up for bloody devil-eyes and his new arsehole party."

"You mean Tony Blair and New Labour?" Marci sighed.

Leila folded her arms and gave a vague nod.

"I just wanted to fuck up this seat like the fight for it fucked up his family," she mumbled.

"And what's so important about this teacher of yours?" Eddie asked, "it doesn't sound like a healthy teacher/student relationship to me, that's for certain."

"It's nothing like that! "Leila cried but her flushed cheeks suggested there was more to Eddie's insinuation than she wanted to admit.

"Then what _is_ it like, Leila?" Marci asked quietly.

Leila looked down. She closed her eyes and let out her breath. There was no way out now but to tell the truth.

"He was just… just so nice to me," she said quietly. She bit her lip. "I know what you're thinking. He'd never done anything. I liked him though. I can't help that." She shook her head. "I'd only been there two weeks. I broke up with my boyfriend. He was going to another college and thought it was too hard to keep seeing me. I was gutted, I thought we were forever, you know?" she glanced at Marci. "Mister Maile… well, he found me in a mess. Calmed me down. Let me stay in his room instead of going to the canteen. He talked to me. Made feel like we were equals. Never made me feel like a stupid kid."

"You're not a kid, Leila," said Marci.

Leila fiddled with her belt.

"I-I guess I kind of got attached," she said quietly, "I swapped to his course. We used to chat sometimes. I used to help him tidy his room and we'd just talk. I learned more about him. We had some things in common. My mum and dad… they'd just split up. Dad had been playing around with other women. Paying for it sometimes too. He… he told me about his dad. Didn't tell me about the politics. Didn't tell me he was trying to get into parliament. I felt so…" she paused, her cheeks glowing a shade, so honoured that he'd shared that with me. It wasn't like talking to a teacher. It was like… I don't know. A friend."

"You saw him as more than that," Marci suggested, "didn't you?" Leila's silence spoke volumes.

"I didn't exactly enjoy having a boyfriend my own age," she said eventually, "and yeah, I fancied him. He'd good looking. You can't tell me you don't see it?"

"He's not really my type," Marci said, her eyes flicking to Eddie involuntarily for just a second. Eddie found himself far too excited by the suggestion hidden in that gesture and tried to keep his excitement buried by asking more questions. Otherwise he was a whisker away from leaving more self-portraits around the place.

"Leila, how did you get from drooling over your politics tutor to blasting a hole in your college?" he asked

Leila gave a weighty sigh.

"It was one week in the club ," she said "there's a politics club. It teaches us a bit more than the curriculum says, It's not stuff we need for exams but it helps us understand things better. Puts them into context. We were covering dirty tricks… things other parties do to taint the campaigns of their opponents. Someone asked for an example and as soon as he started telling the story…" she took a deep breath. "his eyes kept moving to me. Like he wanted me to know. To guess who he was talking about. He never _said_ it was his dad, just talked about it like it had nothing to do with him. But I could tell." She dropped her head, "I saw it in his eyes."

"What about the other students?" Marci asked, "did any of them know?"

"Not at first," Leila said quietly, "but I guess I was acting a bit weird. Someone asked me why. I wasn't going to say… but I couldn't help it. They _kept_ asking. And I liked the attention. They all liked him too, I mean, I felt like I was something special because I knew something about him. They started _treating_ me like I was special, too. We used to sit and bitch about what happened to his dad. Like there was anything we could do about it. I think… think he knew. I'm sure he heard us some times. One night after college he walked me down the road. I'd stayed late. Coursework. He was talking about the election. He said it kills him every time that comes around. I wanted so badly to help. He... We…" she stopped talking and closed her eyes. Some things were too private to share. "The next day at club we were talking about the connection between politics and terrorism. Different ways the two are connected. The subject… the subject of… disrupting voting… we covered it extensively. There was homework… like, an extra essay thing we could do. He gave us a choice of topics. There were resources we could use. He told us about using the internet for research, I hadn't really used it much before. Maybe once or twice. He said about using it to enhance our research… to find out things we couldn't have found in real life, Push our boundaries. He made suggestions… like contacting the webmaster of a site for more information." She looked down, "so that's what I did."

"Wait, what?" Eddie frowned, "this was the site with the bomb making instructions, yes?" Leila stayed silent, "you emailed him."

"It was a form," she said, "on the site. He emailed me back. I told him what I was researching and he had all this political stuff. Said he'd send it to me. I was so happy, I wanted to get the best mark for my essay…"

"How does this translate to doing a _practical?"_ asked Marci.

Leila felt her eyes misting over.

"He was in a bad way one day," she told them, "anniversary of the death. He said he got into teaching to help come to terms with what they did to his dad but he'd never found peace. He wanted to quit. I-I panicked, I told him not to make any decisions yet. The time of year… the election… it was getting to him. I told him to wait. And then the guy… the website guy,... he sent me all the stuff he promised. There were copies of newspaper articles a-and there were ones about him. His dad." She hung her head. "It was a sign. It had to be."

"A sign to blow up a toilet?" Eddie folded his arms.

"We wanted to do something to shake up the election," Cried Leila, "ten years ago bloody Labour pulled the dirtiest fucking trick against his dad! They don't deserve that seat. And every year the secret comes back out the closet and the papers make a big deal about it! He has to put up with that reminder every time. We wanted to do something to give the papers something else to talk about, maybe fuck up the vote so much that they would have to hold another vote for this seat."

"Who's 'we'?" asked Marci, "Mister Maile?"

"No," Leila said quickly, "he doesn't know anything about it." She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "Sometimes after the club… some of us would talk," she said, "Three of us were talking to the man that ran the site by then. We all… we felt so angry about what happened. We… decided… together." She shook her head. "Some others got involved but didn't know about the – _things_ – we were making" she couldn't bring herself to say bombs, "they just organised the distractions. The fights were like another part of the plan by themselves. We just wanted to fuck this election right up for Fenchurch."

"Where did you get the equipment, Leila?" Marci asked.

Leila felt so sick now.

"The site guy helped. Some things he sent me. Others, he told me where to find."

"And you built the bomb yourself?" Marci asked. Leila silently nodded. "Oh, Leila," she shook her head, "you're seventeen years old. What the hell made you want to do something so extreme?"

"I~ just," Leila's voice shook, "just wanted to make a _difference_," she whispered."

Marci shook her head. This wasn't making a difference. This was a terrifying gesture from a desperate girl.

There was a frantic knocking on the door and Jake appeared, looking stressed.

"Fight's broken out" he said, "Fairway School." He paused, "polling station."

Marci's eyes turned to their suspect.

"Oh Leila," she said quietly, "what have you done?"

Leila's guts turned over and her heart raced. She'd destroyed her whole future. _That's_ what she had done.


	21. Chapter 20: For The Road

**Chapter 20**

It worked both ways.

Of course it did.

As much as Kim wanted to know about Julian, so he needed to fill in the gaps about his sister too.

Julian stared at her. The last time he'd seen her she was a fairly typical teenager, the woes of the world on her shoulders. Except in her case it was partially true. She had secrets and Julian knew that, but she seemed to cope with them so much better than most would.

He remembered her fairly long, dark brown hair, her bare ears and blank skin. Kim always had been creative, and it looked as though somewhere along the line Kim had discovered the best canvas of all; her skin. Julian was fascinated by the extensive work that he could see already. He had a couple of tattoos himself but they were nothing compared to the work Kim had undergone over the years.

"I meant it earlier when I asked how you were," he said quietly. He saw a slightly confused look on Kim's face. "Kim, have you any idea what it's been like watching you collecting injuries? Not being able to call the hospital and see if you were OK?"

"Like that's my fault?" Kim sighed, leaning back a little and sipping her scotch. They'd both managed to put away a couple of measures. It had less impact on Kim who had been sinking bottles like they were orange juice but Julian was feeling the effects.

"It was years ago the first time," he closed his eyes, "_stabbing in a London park. Detective sergeant in a coma."_ He saw Kim go visibly paler and wondered if he should have said anything but he'd kept all his anxieties about her safety to himself for years and the words just kept flowing. "And then years and years passed and I didn't know if you even survived, then suddenly there you were in the news again using a different name as a missing tattooist who was on the run with a couple of detectives, tattooing police dogs and avoiding beard models!"

Kim gave the tiniest of smiles as she recalled the day that Robin and Alex arrived in need of her help. That moment changed the course of the rest of her life.

"I never did _actually_ tattoo any police dogs," she told Julian quietly, "you are aware of this fact, right?"

The police dogs and their body art were the least of Julian's concerns.

"You're my little sister," he said quietly, "I wondered what the hell was happening. It sounded like you'd flipped your lid. Like you _all_ had." He sighed and shook his head. "A couple of months later you were on the news again; old name, old career, missing on a case, tied up on an old barge."

"I had no idea you'd even realise who I was."

"And then you were on again and again," Julian told her, "being run over by drug dealers and jewel thieves, getting gunned down by escaped addicts, taking a stand against shamed beard models…" he shuddered, "_that_ one I wasn't so worried about… I was actually quite pleased… you should see the mess in this place after there's been an Evan theme night."

Kim turned green and downed the rest of her scotch.

"_No, thank you,"_ she said quickly.

Unfortunately Julian had been traumatised by the theme nights for quite some time and could see that Kim would be a captive audience for as long as he would carry on filling her glass.

"There were beards everywhere "

That was as far as he needed to go before Kim felt her insides churning with horror.

"Julian, _stop_," she warned.

"All the Evan lookalikes, wandering around, trying out their best beard modelling poses, jutting out their chins –"

"_No,"_ Kim shook her head warningly.

"Quoting to each other from _Fifty Shades of Beard –"_

"Stop!"

"And then came the _Geoff_ cosplayers –"

"_Enough,"_ Kim reached for her refilled glass and downed most of it in one go. She panted a little as she eyed him crossly. "I'm _sorry_ for almost getting killed and worrying you by being on the news but if you keep talking about _this_ then I'm going to have to abuse my powers and arrest you for the mental and emotional torture of a senior detective."

Julian cracked a smile at her threat and especially at the horrified look on her face. It soon faded however as he looked her in the eye.

"Kim?" he said, "I saw you on the news again a few months ago." He hesitated, _"the bloodbath." _Kim's eyes fell. He'd expected nothing less, "a-and your boyfriend," he said, "I'm so sorry."

Kim swallowed. Her eyes focused on her lap. The pain was too great inside as she tried to work out how to respond. She swallowed and whispered;

"He wasn't my boyfriend. We were engaged. He was my fiancé."

Julian flinched, as though his mistake had made things worse somehow.

"Sorry," he said quietly. He chewed nervously on his tongue as he said, "how are you coping?"

Kim swallowed.

"The word '_how'_ implies that I _am_," she said quietly.

He studied her face and realised for the first time how thin and drawn she seemed. Her skin was dull and dry as though it – and she – lacked life. Her face was so thin it looked as though she was constantly sucking in her cheeks and her eyes seemed dark and bloodshot.

"You don't look well," Julian said quietly. She looked away as he struck the biggest sore point. She knew perfectly well how she looked – the problem was that she just didn't care. A very long silence fell. Kim wasn't intending to fill it and Julian didn't know how. Eventually he decided to change the subject. "I was shocked to hear you were in a relationship with some man the first place."

"Yeah, you and me both," Kim said quietly.

Julian hesitated.

"I always knew about you, you know," he said.

Kim nodded.

"I know," she said quietly. She paused. "You caught me doing unmentionable things with my Gillian Anderson pictures enough times," she reminded him.

"You were more worried about people discovering your X-files obsession than your sexuality," Julian observed.

Kim raised a tiny smile,

"Not far from the truth," she said quietly. She breathed in deeply. The alcohol was starting to burn in her chest. Sometimes she acknowledged that she should have eaten something to balance things out and this was one of those times. Just because she recognised that's what she _should_ have done didn't mean that she would have _done_ it though. She gave a little shrug. "Weirdest thing that ever happened to me," she said quietly, "to _both_ of us. Rob was gay too. We we're exactly a regular couple. We'd been through a lot of shit together too. It was just one of those things. We were just supposed to meet each other. Supposed to be together." she tried to hold back the words but they slipped out anyway ,"_But now he's gone."_

"I'm so sorry," Julian didn't know what to say to her.

"We always knew we wouldn't have long," she whispered.,

"How?"

Kim looked up and realised she'd spoken unintentionally. She wasn't going to open up that can of worms. She waved her hand dismissively and bluffed,

"Oh… just all felt… too good to be true," she said quietly, "we were kind of waiting for something to happen."

Julian felt bad for pressing her now. Her face was growing more pained by the word and he knew he needed to change the subject fast. He drummed his fingers on the table for a moment as he tried to think of a safer subject.

"I… what I don't understand is how come you went from chasing no-good felons to inking people and then back again" he said eventually and Kim raised the slightest smile.

"Yeah, my CV reads like a car crash," she said, "It's a long story. When I woke from my coma I… I wanted to change my life," Kim skipped over the big, evil reason why, "I retrained. I'd lost my taste for police work after getting a knife in the guts."

"I can understand that," said Julian.

"~'d become interested in tattoos," Kim said quietly, "I kind of got hooked when I drew out a design for my first one and realised how much I loved doing it. The training was really bloody hard and terribly underpaid but I got there. And I loved it."

"So why the hell did you go _back?"_ Julian couldn't understand it, "look what happened since you went back to the force, you've ended up in hospital more times than a channel 4 documentary crew."

Kim looked down. She knew that. She knew her life could have been so much easier if she'd just stayed away. But it was more complicated than that.

"It turned out," she whispered, "that working with the police was like getting a tattoo." she paused as Julian stared at her, bewildered, "it was under my skin. I had no choice. Needed to do it."

Julian stared at her very slowly he nodded.

"I get that," he said. He reached for the bottle and tried to pour himself a little more scotch but a mere few drops fell into the glass which otherwise remained empty. "Oh shit," he mumbled, "thought there was more left in there." He got to his feet, visibly weaving, "shall I get another one or –"

"Please," Kim said quickly, not wanted to sound too eager she added, "one more for the road?"

Julian looked a little sadly at her.

"You won't stay?" he asked.

Kim bit her lip. She wanted to. Well, a part of her did. She had just found him after all those years, but at the same time the fact she was in Manchester was slowly eating away at her, she needed to get the job wrapped up and head home. She supposed she could just refer to the first statement Julian gave and pretend he had no further answers for her. She certainly wasn't going to ask him questions about some stupid raid.

"I still have a job to do," she said apologetically, "I'm sorry."

"But we will… I mean, we'll keep in touch, yeah?" Julian asked, "now that we…" he paused and flinched, "I know a lot of time has gone under the bridge… but I really… I do want us to get to know each other again. If you… if you want to… Can.. can we do that?"

Every bone in Kim's body, every part of her longed to say yes. Of _course_ she wanted that. Of course she wanted to get to know him all over again. But something stopped her. She didn't know what it was but something deep inside told her that whatever their intentions she was never going to see him again. She didn't understand it. It sent a chill through her bones. She gave a nervous smile. Julian didn't have to know the way her nerves were growing.

"I'd really like that," she whispered. That at least was not a lie.

Julian gave her a nervous but hopeful smile. Then he turned and staggered towards the bar.

Kim closed her eyes and leaned back as she watched him go. She couldn't identify what the strange nagging sensation was in the back of her mind but it wasn't going anywhere.

"Come _on_, brain, don't wreck this for me," she whispered to herself, "this is the one god thing that's happened since Rob died. Don't make me start panicking about –"

_Ffzzzzzzztttttt –_

A fizz of static pulled her out of her thoughts as he eyes rose to the TV in the corner of the bar. It quite suddenly switched itself on and gave out a loud burst of fizziness, both in sound and vision. She quickly turned to the bar to see if Julian had switched it on but he was busy comparing labels to select a different spirit for them and had nothing to do with him.

Immediately her eyes rose again to the screen in time to see a burst of a music video cutting through the static and a familiar lyric struck her ears –

_#...I don't need your tears_

_I don't want your love_

_I just gotta get home…#_

Before it could even hit the chorus the TV went black again and the music stopped. She turned her shocked gaze to Julian but he didn't seem to have seen or heard a thing. Her heart was racing and she wasn't surprised. There it was again_, that fucking song._ Her hands were shaking suddenly and this time she knew she'd had more than enough alcohol so it had to be something else.

"_Just gotta get home,"_ she whispered as she echoed the lyrics.

The shivers than ran up and down her spine were killing her. Somehow that felt more literal than ever before.


	22. Chapter 21: IOU

**Chapter 21**

Chaos fell over Fenchurch East as a flurry of activity ensued.

"Fisticuffs at Stonebridge School," Jake explained at the centre of the gathering, "a fight's broken out in the middle of the voting."

"If this is following the pattern then the sixth polling station in the area is going to have some kind of exploding surprise," said Marci.

"I was just there, the place is clean," Robin told them.

"_Was_ clean" said Alex, "there's a strong likelihood that someone is _about_ to arrive."

"Uniform should already be there, checking for explosives," said Robin.

"We can't take the risk," said Alex, "we need to put ourselves in there right now."

"Still need some mug to sort out the political punch-up," said Gene.

"I'll go," Eddie volunteered.

"Not without me," Marci reached into her pocket, "Still got the keys.

"Stay on the end of your radio," Alex called after them as they ran towards a car.

"Batman, get yer canine crew to Fenchurch Halls," Gene told Robin, "if the pattern is as predictable as the one on Shoebury's jumper then there'll be indoor fireworks about to go off."

"Shaz is already there," Gene told him.

"Call in the rest of your dogs," said Gene, "not taking any chances this time."

"What about me, Guv?" asked Jake.

"Have a word with Tunnel Ears," Gene told him, "see if you can get a description of the firework fan we're looking for." He looked around in frustration, "where the bloody hell is Shoebury?" No one had an answer for Gene. They all looked around and shrugged. Eventually he sighed. "Well we don't have time to wait for him to pick which episode of Red Dwarf he's going to watch tonight, we need to _move it."_

With that, the gathering dispersed and the action was on.

~xXx~

"Bloody ridiculous fights," Marci said as the tyres spun and squealed and Eddie's stomach did the same.

"Bloody hell, Marci, can you slow this thing down before I wash the windscreen down with second-hand latte?" he cried, clutching the dashboard.

"You want to get there and unmask this batch of idiots, right?" she challenged, not even caring how bad her driving was.

"It's unmasking my _lunch_ I'm worried about," Eddie warned as they approached the school grounds. Marci swerved before screeching to a halt and Eddie's radio tumbled to the floor where the back fell away and the insides tumbled into the car. _"Shit,"_ he cried, "so much for staying at the end of the radio!"

"Relax, I've got mine," Marci sighed. They climbed out of the car and surveyed the situation where an old woman was beating a scraggy-looking gentleman repeatedly with her umbrella.

"It's really been one of those days," Eddie commented as they ran to break up the ridiculous fight.

~xXx~

Robin watched Shaz and the others as they covered the area, taking their highly-trained canines along the line of voters and throughout the building. One of the dogs had apparently been trained to sniff out supporters of the referendum party but aside from that the dogs were on the whole unresponsive. Eventually Shaz gave Robin a blank shrug from across the car park.

"_Damn,"_ Robin muttered. He walked at speed toward Gene and Alex who were trying to spot suspicious behaviour in the line. "No luck," he said.

"Maybe they're running late, blew up their bloody alarm clock," Gene mused as he surveyed the reasonably calm scene.

"No, they'd have to have timed it right for the distraction to be effective," Alex said thoughtfully as she walked slowly around, "look at the first two instances. Just enough time passed between the fight breaking out and the device detonating or being discovered both times to ensure we were at another polling station and focusing our efforts in the wrong place. If there was a third device they should be here by now."

"What if they've gone back to one of the other stations?" said Robin.

"Or maybe there _is_ no third device?" Alex suggested.

"No, I talked to Jake, the girl confirmed there was a bomb number three but didn't know where," Robin told them.

Alex's radio sprang into life as Marci's annoyed voice began,

_"Ma'am? We got them."_

Alex pulled out her radio, slightly frustrated at having to pull her mind away from the riddle at hand.

"Carry on, Marci," she said.

"_Unrest dealt with,"_ Marci told her, "_Eddie's just off to relieve himself in the lavs, like I needed to know that. Then we'll head back to the station."_

Alex could have done without the update on Eddie's bladder too.

"At least you've seen more action than _we_ have," she told Marci.

"_No bomb?"_ asked Marci.

"Not as yet," said Alex. She heard shouting from behind her and glanced over her shoulder to look with distaste at someone who was acting stupidly in the queue.

"_Well we caught the political punchers,"_ said Marci, "_such as they were."_

Alex frowned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"_No MP masks this time,"_ said Marci, "just an old woman and some twat who was trying to nick her handbag."

"What?"

"_Don't worry, she gave him a good stiff dose of umbrellas justice,"_said Marci.

"I don't understand –" Alex began but more shouting from behind her pulled her attention away and she glanced behind her to see some pushing and shoving going on. "Robin, go and have a word," she said before asking Marci, "what do you mean? It _can't_ be an old woman."

"_She'll happily show you her bus pass,"_ said Marci, _"she's been showing me for the last five minutes."_

"But you said that Leila –" Alex froze, her eyes drawn exclusively to the row behind her as the unrest spilled out from the queue in to the rest of the car park and a couple of apparent voters wearing t-shirts decorated with scary caricatures of famous prime ministers and Margaret Thatcher masks began to throw punches at one another. Her heart jolted. "That wasn't the false unrest," she whispered.

"_Ma'am?"_ Marci's questioning tone struck Alex as she watched Robin and Gene pulling the protesters apart.

"Marci," Alex said anxiously, "the fight… are you sure it's an old woman?"

"She event took out her false teeth to clobber the guy," Marci told her, believe me, she's not wearing prosthetic wrinkles."

Alex swallowed.

"_This_ is the fakery," she whispered.

"_What?"_

"Marci, listen to me very carefully," Alex could hear her own heart beating loudly, "the unrest you attended was _not_ a part of this campaign, I repeat it is _not_ a part of it. Right here… it's going on _right here…."_ Her fear rose, "Marci, the bomb… it has to be _there_…" she swallowed, "where _you_ are…."

X

Marci froze on the spot. The words that she'd heard seemed ridiculous. It felt like a joke. She even laughed slightly.

"What?" she asked.

_"The fake unrest is happening here, now,"_ Alex's tone grew more urgent, "which means –"

"Oh _shit,"_ Marci didn't need Alex to continue. For a second she froze. Her eyes darted around, trying to work out what to do.

_"You need to get everyone out,"_ Alex told her firmly, "_evacuate the polling station immediately."_ There was a moment's pause. "_Where's Eddie?"_

"Ed-" Marci froze as she caught sight of a young man walking at some speed away from the direction in which the toilets were signposted, _"Eddie!"_

_The fear._

The fear in Marci rose like she could never have believed. Watching Eddie walking ever closer to the door while the youth raced in the other direction, her first instinct was to warn him by radio but his was busted. Her second was to scream his name but with the distance and the crowd he would never have heard. There was only one option left.

Letting the radio drop to the floor where it shattered into pieces smaller than Keats's popularity, she ran. She focused on getting to Eddie as fast as she could. Nothing else mattered; not the Conservative idiot she pushed to one side nor the Labour twat she shoved to the other. One word rang out as she screamed it at the top of her voice, stinging her throat; yelling out his name. _Fuck_, what was that feeling sneaking in beside the fear? It had better not be fondness. It felt a lot like it though. She wasn't going to admit it, not even to herself.

"Eddie!" she screamed, _"Eddie!"_

The last time she called him he stopped and began to turn but before he could react Marci reached him and acted from instinct and intuition. Grasping him firmly, she pushed him sideways, away from the direct point of entry to the building and landed heavily on top of him. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he'd just about managed to cough out a '_what_?' when he was deafened momentarily by a noise so loud that he couldn't even imagine what had caused it for a second. The next thing he clocked was the rush of heat as fire licked out of the doorway that he'd been heading for and the realisation that he might have become a toasted detective struck him harder than the leaping Marci.

"_Shit!"_ he gasped, his jaw dropping. He turned enough to look her in the eye "Shit, that was…"

A shocked and shaken Marci could barely nod.

"Yup," she gasped.

Eddie gulped.

"Did you just…" he stared at the flame and the falling pieces of debris as Marci nodded.

"Save your life?" She asked, "you'd better believe it, Edward Ashworth." She was panting, her heart racing and a fear running through her veins like she had never felt before. She swallowed and tried to get her thoughts together. "Tomorrow night," she said, "this drink. There'd better be champagne."

Eddie looked at her in confusion.

"What?"

"Lots of it," she told him squarely, "and dinner. It had better be three fucking expensive courses."

Eddie stared at her, more shocked about the talk of the next night that he was about the bomb.

"Y-yes," he stammered, "all of that. And more."

"And you're paying."

"_Yes ma'am."_

"Because you owe me your life but I'm not sure that's worth very much in pounds sterling so you'd better owe me dinner instead."

"That's more than fine by me."

"And you're ordering a bloody taxi because I'm going to be needing a _lot_ of alcohol to get over this."

Eddie resisted the urge to make any mention of Marci's driving and how alcohol couldn't possibly worsen it and merely nodded.

"Not a problem," he said. His heart was still thumping and he couldn't tell if it was from the shock of the explosion or the fact that Marci appeared to have finally accepted his date.

"And_ if," _Marci moved away a little and wagged her finger severely in his face, "and this is a _big_ 'if'… if you end up coming back to mine; tomorrow, next week or _any_ time this side of the millennium then there are to be _no_ abandoned underpants and no self-portraits drawn, not now, not ever. Understood?"

Eddie was torn between gulping and grinning.

"Understood.

"_Good."_

That was the point at which Eddie and Marci managed to escape their shocked stupor and realised the chaos that was going on around them. Voters were screaming, flames were still licking around them and parts of the building looked somewhat unsteady. They quickly scrambled to their feet and leapt into action, diverting people as far away from the grounds as possible and organising back up as well as fire and ambulance crews, but every so often they would exchange a look between them.

For the first time since Eddie woke up in Fenchurch East he felt a genuine sense of happiness descending over him. Despite the situation; the chaos, the flame and the destruction that was happening around them he realised something that surprised him, totally and utterly.

He wasn't aimlessly chasing people and hoping for the best any more.

He'd fallen for someone. Head over heels. And they liked him back.

For someone who'd been unluckier in love than he apparently had in his job, suddenly things were turning around. The one thing he had always been missing and never found back in the real word had entered his life when he had least expected it and from the glint in Marci's eye as she caught his gaze every now and then perhaps she was feeling it too.

As sirens wailed, fire crews began to douse the flames and Eddie managed to herd the rest of the voters from the grounds the sky seemed to darken, just for a moment. Starlight twinkled around him and caused him to draw breath but it faded as soon as it had arrived. The shock of the explosion was playing tricks. In his mind, that was all.

The starlight faded but a twinkle remained. It was the sparkle of contentment in his eye. Explosions or otherwise, as far as Eddie was concerned life was _pretty fucking amazing._

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading - I'm still behind on PMs but I really appreciate those of you who are following the story and especially anyone who has taken the time to review at any point. Honestly, it means so much. I just like to know that someone else other than me is enjoying this. And to those of you, few of you that there are, who have followed right from the beginning I feel really happy that you're still with me. I'm feeling a bit sentimental about this series of fics today and the journey that I've been on with them. I'm really happy that you've been there for the ride. Thank you x**_


	23. Chapter 22: A Tangled Web

**Chapter 22**

"Are you sure you're alright?" Alex knew she was fussing. She couldn't help it somehow. Separated forever from Molly and her baby she looked for others to mother sometimes. Seeing the devastation at Stonebridge School and realising how close Marci and Eddie had been to the blast had brought that out in her.

"Ma'am, we're fine," Marci shrugged off the blanket that someone had tried to put around her shoulders, "the blast didn't get us."

"What about the shock?" Alex asked.

Eddie shuffled a little.

"Believe me, the bomb was not the biggest shock of the day," he said, glancing at Marci who tried not to smile as she looked away.

In contrast to the second device which had failed to detonate, the third bomb had worked a little better than the perpetrators had been expecting. More damage had been done structurally to the school than from the first explosion and as a result the voting was moved to a nearby outbuilding.

"We picked up the boy" Shaz told them, "lucky we had the dogs. He was phobic apparently. Had a bad experience with an over-amorous poodle once; he only saw the dog and started blubbering."

"I wish I'd seen that," Marci said with genuine disappointment.

"What a bloody mess," Robin sighed as he looked at the dripping, singed school and the yards of _Police: Do Not Cross _tape that Eddie was doing his best to stay away from.

"All because of a bunch of student stew-brains who put too much faith in some faceless bastard hiding behind a deranged name," said Gene.

"Domain name," Robin corrected.

"Whatever, Batman."

Robin scratched his head.

"Only gets worse from here on in, you know."

Gene could well imagine; he'd seen enough during his short stint to 2012.

"Direct route to gold stars and siren-fapping," he said before he realised he'd opened his big mouth again and a highly horrified Alex was glaring in his direction. He decided the best course of action was to pretend he'd said nothing. "Fun as it is picking over the charred remains of a college barbecue we've got the Young Fenchurch Terrorism Society to interview. Back to base, ladies and gents."

Eddie frowned.

"Did you have to mention gents?" he whined, "I never got to go to the bog and now it's in several million pieces."

~xXx~

By the time Gene and the team had arrived back at Fenchurch East Jake had spoken to all three students responsible for the placing and detonation of devices.

"All telling the same story, Guv," Jake told Gene as he stood glaring at Carl while he signed his papers to be officially released without charge, "Their connection on that site gave them the details and some of the resources. The whole thing was co-ordinated through its chatroom according to Leila." His eyes moved to Carl who had a slightly smug smile across his face. "Nothing tying in the teacher aside from the reason why they decided to mess up the local vote in the first place."

"You see," Carl began as he signed the last space, "sometimes you need to learn to look past the obvious, officers."

"Just as well someone _did_ then."

Gene jumped at the sound of Simon's voice as his footsteps approached along the corridor.

"Bloody hell, Shoebury, what happened to you?" he demanded, "was about to call in a search party, thought you'd been abducted by John Prescott."

Simon held in his hand a bundle of papers.

"Jake did some interesting research about web usage in college," he said, ignoring Gene's question and tone, "finding out the students who'd visited the website was really helpful." He hesitated as he reached the gathering. "But it wasn't just the students who used the website, was it?"

All eyes turned to Carl. His smile was slightly anxious but his palms open and his voice steady as he said,

"I set the homework. I found some websites they might like to use as a resource. Of _course_ you would expect the site to appear on my history too."

"Yeah, not the admin panel though."

Carl froze. His eyes darkened as they fixed on Simon.

"What?" his tone was quieter now; weaker.

"I need a geek to explain what one of _those_ is, pronto," Gene demanded.

"The admin panel," Simon said, never taking his glare from Carl "is the page from which he maintains his website."

He watched Carl's Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed.

"Officer, I have a busy life and a full time position as a politics tutor. I don't have time to run websites."

"That's not what _WHOIS_ thinks."

"Who's what?" frowned Gene.

"WHOIS," Simon repeated, "basically a site that tells you everything you need to know about the owner of a domain name aside from their favourite filmn and what colour pants they're wearing."

Gene watched as Simon thrust a printout in his direction and took it slowly. He flapped it straight and let his eyes skip over the information. He couldn't be bothered pretending to understand what he was looking at, but two words stuck out like a sore thumb; _Carl Maile._

"Well, Mister Maile," he began, "looks as though someone's been a busy boy."

"I don't know the first thing about websites," Carl protested anxiously.

"You seemed to know enough to give the students a list of them as a resource," Alex pointed out.

"Bit of a leap from that to becoming a webmaster," Carl hissed.

"Less of a leap when you look at your time table and see that you teach eighty-percent of your timetable as Government and Politics but the other twenty percent as an IT Teacher," Simon said, pulling another sheet of paper to the front of his pile.

Several sets of surprised eyes focused on Simon as Gene took the paper and double-checked Simon's findings.

"It seems me esteemed colleague is correct," he said, raising his eyebrow and staring at the very pale face of the teacher, "Well, it's an interesting CV you've got. Politics, computers and things that go _bang_."

Alex's mouth dropped open a little.

"Did… _Simon_… just figure this out?" she asked in shock.

Simon scowled.

_"Hey,"_ he said, disgruntled.

"We're about to welcome a Labour government, it's a brave new world," said Marci.

"Like I've never done something right before!" cried Simon.

"And to think you were fed up in hi-tech crimes," Robin commented.,

Simon hesitated and closed his eyes briefly. Robin had a point. From the moment he arrived he hated his department, So far all he'd done was investigate people shoving their goolies into computers and getting attacked by mutant toasters. _This_ was more like it. _This_ was more his thing. He nodded slowly.

"Maybe there are some upsides to the department after all," he conceded.

The smug smirk had long since disappeared from Carl's face and it seemed Gene had inherited it instead.

"Well, Mister Maile, he said, "it seems as though we'll be enjoying the pleasure of your company for a while longer." He picked up his release papers and tore them clean down the middle. "Don't worry, we'll recycle," he lied, dropping them straight in the rubbish bin. He pushed the gentleman back toward the interview rooms and glanced back toward Simon. "Shoebury," he said gruffly, turns out there are some perks to having a nerd in me team after all."

Simon narrowed his eyes slightly.

"King of the backhanded compliments, aren't you, Gene?" he said.

Gene ignored his tone.

"Tonight," he began, "not exactly going to be downtown pissing it up as the reds get their seats. The super wants us all on hand in case anything else blows up after what's happened today."

"King of the puns too," Simon pointed out.

"Shut your nerdhole and listen," Gene told him, "TV'll be on in CID all night for anyone who feels like cheering on the Cheshire Cat. Swingometer and Scotch. The latter's on me."

Simon was shocked by the offer of a free drink but wasn't going to turn it down.

"Thanks," he said, nodding, "consider me in."

"Same goes for the rest of you," Gene addressed the gathering to a mutter of approval, "…except for the scotch." The muttering turned to annoyance from the officers and detectives who now had to bring their own refreshments.

Jake sighed and rubbed his head as he watched Alex and Gene escorting Carl into the interview room for a second attempt at extracting some truth.

"Sad when you think about it," he said.

Robin and Simon both looked at him curiously.

"What is?" asked Simon.

"That man's harboured such bad feeling for the last ten years that he encouraged a bunch of otherwise innocent, naïve students to do something illegal, deadly and utterly immoral, just to somehow avenge his father," said Jake. He sighed, "how much of our lives do our parents screw up?"

Immediately both Simon and Robin looked away, scowling under the weight of their own parentage issues and both started to walk away, muttering about their DNA.

"Oh, nice job," Marci congratulated him, "what did you say now?"

"I don't _know!"_ Jake protested, "oh for…" he closed his eyes and shook his head, "I need to stop talking. I need to never talk again." He began to march away.

"Where are you going?" Marci asked.

"To get the superglue," said Jake.

"What? Why?"

"Seal my mouth before I can do any more damage," Jake explained.

Shaz turned to Marci.

"I'd better see if they need me out at any of the polling stations or whether I'm finished for the day," she said.

"Joining us here for drinks tonight?" Marci asked.

"Count on it," Shaz smiled as she turned and hurried off to find out where.

Eddie glanced at Marci.

"And then there were two," he commented.

"Don't you go making any '_two become one'_ references at my expense," Marci warned, "I am aware that my hairstyle resembles Scary Spice but _I_ had it first. She must have copied _me!"_

Eddie held up his hands

"Not going to say a word," he promised.

Marci gave a slightly nervous smile. If she was honest she had never really had a lot of time for relationships. She'd had a fair few flings and one night stands but she found herself too easily hurt to let herself become involved in a real relationship. Whilst she tried to concentrate on her job she didn't have the room for love alongside it. She started to wonder if this just might be the time.

"You're staying for drinks and politics tonight, right?" she asked.

"Booze and Blair – how can I refuse?" Eddie said with a nervous smile. He hesitated awkwardly as his mind went back to the blast. "Marci, what happened before… the explosion…"

Marci shuffled a little as she felt her cheeks warming.

"Let's not think about that," she said.

"You saved my life," Eddie pointed out.

"I did what any of us would have done," Marci bit her top lip feeling somewhat shy suddenly, but Eddie shook his head

"You saved me," He said again, "I'm not sure how to pay off that kind of debt."

Marci finally looked him in the eye.

"Follow through on the promise the champagne and dinner and we'll call it even," she said.

"That's not even."

"Until such times as you get the opportunity to push me out the path of an exploding surprise we'll say it is," Marci told him.

Eddie couldn't agree with that but he didn't want to argue either. He looked into her deep, dark eyes and watched them sparkle. He'd rarely seen them come to life like that before. That made him smile and drew him toward her like a magnet. He couldn't help it. Her lips looked so inviting that he needed to feel them against his own.

With gentle, hesitant fingers he tilted her face just a little and watched her closing her eyes before their lips brushed for an instant in one brief kiss; one taster of what just might lay ahead for them.

As they parted, all too aware that they were still standing in the middle of the custody suite they exchanged a smile that radiated promise.

It was a brave new world indeed - and Tony Blair was not the only one who would be grinning when Friday arrived.


	24. Chapter 23: Fearing It

Chapter 23

Even Kim was reaching maximum scotch saturation point. She was aware that it was growing dark outside and wondered how long she had been there.

"What's the time?" she asked Julian. She flexed her wrist a little, "My watch has stopped."

Julian checked his own.

"Half eight," he said.

"_Shit,"_ Kim sighed deeply and stared into her glass, "I can't stay for much longer."

Julian swilled the drink around in his glass.

"Kim?" he began, "you have no idea how happy I am that this happened." He looked down. "I've wanted to contact you for so long but I've been too much of a fucking coward."

Kim breathed in deeply, her insides starting to swirl with far too much alcohol. It was all she could do to keep it down.

"So fucking weird," she whispered, "never thought today would end up this way."

She didn't know how she _had_ expected the day to end up, mind you. It had started with terrifying visions, then a nightmare of Olympic flames and beards, and then an impromptu trip up north. It didn't really get more eclectic than that.

Julian looked at her nervously.

"I need to ask you something," he said, "it's important."

Kim nodded.

"Go ahead."

"I understand if the answer is no," Julian began quietly, "but I need to know. Can you ever forgive me for walking out without a word?"

Kim hadn't been expecting that. She looked him in the eye. He seemed so sad and lost. It chilled Kim to think of all the years he'd spent alone, struggling with his decision, but it worked both ways.

"Julian," she said, surprised how natural it was to use that name, "I understand why you did it. Why you _had_ to do it. I know what our family life was like and after I discovered what our mother did to you that day…" she shook her head, "I've never forgiven her for that. She swallowed. She wished she could just say that everything would be OK but she had been bottling up so much and for so many years, the pain ran deep. "But I would be lying if I said that I wasn't hurt that you didn't feel you could talk to me," she whispered, "_Me_. You know I'd have done my best to understand. To help."

"You were a kid –"

"No, I wasn't." Kim wasn't listening to that line again, "I was a teenager. You weren't all _that_ much older than I was. We used to be close. We used to _talk_. I'm still gutted that the one thing you couldn't talk to me about was the one thing you really needed to."

Julian's eyes turned downward.

"It was too difficult."

"But the part that I am finding hard to put behind me," she continued, "is the fact that you disappeared without even a note or a word and I spent years thinking you were most likely dead."

Julian swallowed.

"I _was_ dead," he whispered, "in a way."

But Kim shook her head.

"No," she whispered, "_Julia_ was dead. But Julian was blossoming. And you never gave me the chance to get to know him." She lifted her glass, "to get to know _you."_

Julian's heart ached as he nodded slowly.

"I get that," he whispered, "I'm so sorry. I was scared." He let out his breath in a pained sigh. "I still am." He looked at her seriously. "Please tell me we have another chance?" he asked, "tell me have the chance to get to know each other now. I will see you again…. I will, won't I?"

Kim feigned a smile. She wished it was that simple but things were a lot more complicated for her.

"Julian." She whispered, "I don't know how long I'll be up here. And I don't know if I'll ever be back. Manchester doesn't exactly hold a lot of good memories for me."

"Then we'll phone? Email? I'll visit you down south?"

Kim's smile waivered. She wanted to, she truly did, but the sight of her still, silent watch reminded her that sometimes you just don't have the chance to follow through with your promises.

"Of course," she whispered. She only hoped that they would have a chance to make it so. A look of relief and warmth filled Julian's expression as he finally cracked into a smile.

"Come here sis," he said quietly as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her in a hug that filled her with warmth and security, two things that she hadn't felt in a very long time. Not since the day that Robin died. She closed her eyes, letting his hug melt a little of the ice that had built around her heart.

_"I've missed you,"_ she whispered, a flurry of tears spilling from her eyes.

"I missed you too," Julian whispered as he hugged her tightly, infuriated by the sudden ringing of the telephone. "Oh who the _fuck_ is _that?"_

"Oh god, probably someone wondering why I've not finished taking your statement yet," Kim sniffed, drawing back a little and wiping her eye.

"Want me to ignore it?" asked Julian.

Kim shook her head.

"Better get it," she said, rubbing the tears from her cheeks, "don't need them sending a search party… finding me in this state…"

Julian nodded and flashed her a sentimental smile. He got to his feet, weaving terribly from the alcohol and made his way unsteadily to the bar. He lifted the receiver and gave a hefty sigh before he said with a tiny slur,

"Taurus bar? Yes?" he paused and listened and his eyes flickered to Kim for a moment. "But I'm busy. Got a… detective here," it wasn't exactly a lie, "taking my statement about last night. Can't someone else…. They _what_?" his face filled with horror which put Kim on alert, "they didn't? You're shitting me?" he closed his eyes and swallowed in clear distress. "Alright, dont do anything. I'll get the shaving foam." As he hung up he turned to Kim who was starting to feel fairly anxious.

"Shaving foam?" she repeated.

"One of the Evan cosplayers," Julian said, rushing to gather some things from behind the bar, "not too pleased that tonight's Evan theme night has been cancelled. He's gathered a troop of Evan-a-likes and they're all marching on Canal Street. He scooted across to Kim, "Sis, you're going to have to forgive me, they need me out there."

Kim looked at the shaving foam in his hand and frowned.

"Will you be alright?" she asked anxiously.

"Fine and dandy, said Julian, "we use this to disperse the Evans. A bit like a pepper spray, except more effective on beardfans." He stopped and stared Kim in the eye. He knew that this was going to be goodbye, he could be out there fo hours and Kim ~ad to get back to the station. "Listen," he said quietly, "will you still be here tmorrow?"

Kim chewed on her tongue.

"I don't know," she said honestly, "I might be, but I don't know how long for. They've booked me a hotel room. I'll likely be here overnight."

"Don't go without saying goodbye, sis," Julian pleaded, "now I've got you back in my life I don't want you to leave without a proper goodbye."

Kim tried to smile but her lips were not co-operating.

"I'll try," she said quietly but somehow she wasn't sure she would be able to fulfil that.

Julian hugged her again, reluctant to let her go, but he could already hear the beard chants and knew that he had an important job to do. The safety of Canal Street depended on it.

"Finish your drink before you go, he said, "and take care, Kim."

"You too," Kim whispered.

One last long look was exchanged between them, years of distance fading into the background before he reluctantly left, shaving foam in hand, and prepared to do battle with the bearded masses.

Kim closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She laid one hand across her stomach, feeling the effects of far too much scotch. Even for her this was an excess. She was only glad that Julian had been too drunk himself to notice how much she was putting away. Her guts were churning and she felt sure she was about to spew for a moment but a few deep breaths saw to that, The day had been the most bizarre of her life, and considering some of the things she had experienced that was saying something.

She opened one eye, spotted the half-finished scotch on the table and groaned with a slightly pained belch. She didn't want to waste it but knew she would regret it if she tried to throw any more alcohol down her neck. Maybe she could somehow pour it in to her flask. Like _that_ wouldn't be a disaster and cause a massive scotch spillage all over the table.

The sudden fizz of static made her jump out of her skin and pulled her attention to the TV set. It wasn't the first time that it had made its presence known. Sparkles and fuzzy lines danced across the screen as the speakers blasted nothing but noise. Her heart started to thump as the shock filtered through but while it was all static that was acceptable, just about, A few deep breaths and she would be fine. A few deep breaths and she would simply switch off the TV and leave. _Not a problem._

The television had other ideas.

What the hell _was_ this? the song that suddenly came basting out, It wasn't the one that Kim was used to, that was for sure.

"_Don't fear the Reaper?"_ Kim whispered as she realised what she was watching and listening to. She hadn't heard that song in god knows how long. The subject matter chilled her terribly and her arms filled with goosebumps.

_#...All our times have come_

_Here but now they're gone_

_Seasons don't fear the reaper_

_Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain. We can be like they are_

_Come on baby...don't fear the reaper_

_Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper_

_We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper_

_Baby I'm your man...#_

"No, _fuck_ this," Kim mumbled, getting to her feet. She walked slightly unsteadily to the television and launched an attack on the off button but it wasn't paying any attention to her. "No, stop this," she told it as she pressed at it again and again. Finally she threw her hands in the air and shouted, "oh _fuck off!"_ She wasn't going to carry on with that fruitless battle any longer.

_Just walk away, Kim. Go. You need to leave anyway._

But as she turned to walk there was a tempting fizz of static. It made her freeze where she was and then slowly turn her head. She knew something else was coming and despite her gut instinct to keep on walking she just couldn't ignore it. Swallowing hard, she stared at the screen as the black and white dots cleared and an image slowly came into focus. He heart felt as though it gave out right there and then. As close as she'd been to throwing up from the scotch, the vision on the TV came a hell of a lot closer.

"_You have everything, don't you?"_

That was a voice she didn't want to hear but there was no escaping it. _Keats_. The voice that turned her inside out every time she heard it. There were shadows but nothing so dark that it blotted out the features of a second man, tied and helpless on the ground, nor the blood that was smeared across his face.

"_Robin,"_ she breathed. As though attached to the end of a piece of elastic she was drawn back to the screen and pressed her hand against it. A choking sob came from deep within her as she heard his voice between bolts of static.

"_You don't fucking get it, do you? I've got nothing!"_

_"Everything that should be mine!"_

"_I'm dead, Keats! How's that having everything?"_

"_You know what I'm talking about, chief inspector Thomas."_

"_You're insane."_

"_They're all hung up on you, aren't they?"_

"_What can you gain from this, Keats? It's not like you can kill me, is it?"_

"_So the law of the land says but I'm not sure I agree," _Keats shifted his weight and moved directly in the line of vision, as though standing in front of a camera, "_because I've never been this strong before, Robin. Thanks to you I've got strength like you'll never know. And I reckon it's time to see just how far I can take it."_

The sight of Keats tapping a hefty, blunt object against his hand before raising it to Robin made Kim release a scream at a volume she did not think possible. It hurt her own ears and burned her throat while she thrust her fists against the screen causing damage only to her knuckles as they bruised and bled from cracks in her dry skin then quite suddenly Robin and Keats vanished from the vision as another verse of music played instead;

_#...Valentine is done_

_Here but now they're gone_

_Romeo and Juliet_

_Are together in eternity...Romeo and Juliet_

_40,000 men and women everyday...Like Romeo and Juliet_

_40,000 men and women everyday...Redefine happiness_

_Another 40,000 coming everyday...We can be like they are_

_Come on baby...don't fear the reaper_

_Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper_

_We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper_

_Baby I'm your man...#_

"_Shut up!"_ she begged the TV, "just shut the fuck _up!"_ she battled with the off button again until the sight of Alex on the screen, her face filled with fear, greeted her. "Ma'am, no," she gasped, "_please_ –"

The dark shadow of Keats loomed over her as he gently ran his fingers through her hair. As scared as she was she was in no position to fight him; her head lolling and her eyes unfocused as the laden air did its work.

"_Been far too long, hasn't it, Alex?"_ Keats's words made Kim's insides lurch and this time she knew she was dangerously close to vomiting. The fear and horror that rose inside her stripped her of her ability to function as she cried and screamed, the screen flitting between action and static over and over until it gave out completely and the screen went black.

Kim drew back and leaned flat against the cold, hard wall, panting heavily one hand pressed against her chest. What the fuck was she seeing? Why wouldn't the images go away?

"I don't know what to do!" she screamed, "I don't know how to _help_ you!"

The sound system leapt into action in an instant, the closing verse playing out as though in cahoots with the TV set.

_#...Love of two is one_

_Here but now they're gone_

_Came the last night of sadness_

_And it was clear she couldn't go on_

_Then the door was open and the wind appeared_

_The candles blew then disappeared_

_The curtains flew then he appeared...saying don't be afraid_

_Come on baby...and she had no fear_

_And she ran to him...then they started to fly_

_They looked backward and said goodbye...she had become like they are_

_She had taken his hand...she had become like they are_

_Come on baby...don't fear the reaper…#_

The words seemed to surround her, encroach upon her, attack her as she cried and screamed and begged for it all to stop. Unable to work out how to switch the sound system off she ran; ran from the building, through the doors, back out into canal Street. It was busier now, the bars and clubs filling up for the night. Her legs took her straight into the middle of a crowd of people, all dressed up and ready for a night on the town. She was flailing and flopping, her body affected by the alcohol and her mind traumatised by the things she had seen.

She could hold back no longer, retching and vomitting into the side of the road to a variety of disgusted looks .

"It's not even nine yet," she heard someone say.

"Someone started early," another voice chimed in.

She leaned over the curb, throwing up until her insides were empty, then stumbled sideways, reaching out for something sturdy to keep her upright. Resting her head against a wall she panted hard, spitting the taste out of her mouth of the recycled scotch. It was a shame the memory of the images and music wasn't so easy to remove. She breathed deeply, ignoring and voices behind her. Her eyes closed tightly as she tried to calm herself. _Fuck_, she hoped that no one would know who he was. She didn't know how they could, but if word got out, her career would be over.

Suddenly music brought a second wave of nausea through her stomach and chest. She froze as familiar notes and words struck her ears. She very slowly turned around, trying to ignore the eyes that were fixed upon her and listened carefully. There from another bar she heard a tune with which she was greatly familiar,

_#...And I feel like I'm breaking up, and I wanted to stay_

_Headlights on the hillside, don't take me this way_

_I don't want you to hold me, I don't want you to pray_

_This is bigger than us…#_

"No!" she screamed, "I can't take this… I can't take any more!"

She looked around desperately. She needed to escape. She just needed to get away. Where the fuck was her car? Everything would be alright if she could just get back to her car.

That was when she realised for the first time that it wasn't there.

She froze on the spot, her eyes fixed where she had left it just a couple of hours before. There was no sign of it now.

"The fiat –" she whispered as she began to tremble. Her head spun from side to side as she tried desperately to locate the missing vehicle. "Oh come _on!"_ she knew she'd had far too much to drink but she _knew_ where she'd left it. Had someone stolen it? She hadn't heard it starting up. What the hell was happening?

She found herself running the length and breadth of Canal Street, hunting desperately for the vehicle but there was just no sign. The car was gone, The Fiat was gone. Gene's fiat.

"_My_ fiat," she corrected. She swallowed hard and stared back at the space where it had been a couple of hours ago. Something was building. She knew that much. The air felt strange. _Electric_. Somewhere deep inside her she knew the car hadn't been stolen. She didn't know what _had_ happened instead but she had a strong feeling that it was no longer sharing the same year as her.

"What the hell is happening?" she whispered.

But the night air had no answers for her, only more questions and a while heap of fear.


	25. Chapter 24: A Corking Evening

**Chapter 24**

"Today could have been a complete PR disaster and we came very close to that margin. But with the strength, the intelligence and the fast thinking of an exceptional team we have come through it with nothing but praise and respect."

Superintendent Fletcher addressed the crowd in CID. He felt like a proud parent as he looked out over their faces. He knew that there had been so much for them to deal with over the past year and there had been times that he hadn't been able to imagine a way that they could pull things together. But now things were on an even keel and the team were stronger than they'd ever been.

With Alex back, Gene's health and purpose restored and Simon more focused on the work than ever, CID had reached a golden era. On top of that Uniform finally had a strong personality leading the way in the form of Robin taking on the new canine division and uniting the station was having a positive effect all round.

Fletcher wasn't stupid. He knew that there were all kinds of issues bubbling under the surface. But the team rose above them and came together when they needed to. He could only commend them for that.

"So this," he placed a bottle of fairly cheap fizzy wine on the desk, "is to say well done for coming through today. Now sit back and enjoy the blanket of red sweeping across the country and let's say goodbye to the blue."

"Don't you mean the grey, sir?" Eddie piped up, glancing at the John Major caricature on the whiteboard. Some laughter showed that this joke wasn't as bad as his usual efforts and he felt fairly proud.

"Yes, DC Ashworth, that too," said Fletcher. He gave a nod. "Fine work, all of you." He glanced at Gene. "And, Gene, I'm glad to see you've gotten over your…" he paused and indicated his eyes, "_phase."_

Gene turned red from fury and shame as he recalled the unlawful application of blue eyeliner by his own fiancée while he was incapacitated.

"Thank you, _sir,_" he said through gritted teeth.

As Fletcher began to walk away and the gathered team descended on the unopened bottle he pulled Robin to one side for a moment.

"Chief inspector Thomas," he began, "I have some good news about your department."

"It's being disbanded?" Robin asked hopefully.

"Quite the opposite," Fletcher told him, "your good work hasn't gone unnoticed. Your remit is being doubled."

Robin froze.

"Doubled?" he repeated.

Fletcher nodded.

"Funding for the canine division has been given the go-ahead to increase by a hundred percent," he said, "you may begin looking at the acquisition and training of six more dogs and new staff will be sourced for your department over the next six months."

Robin felt as though his brain was going to explode. He found himself shaking his head involuntarily and Fletcher developed a slightly angry look which made him go into damage limitation mode.

Sir," he began awkwardly, "I'm… _flattered_ that my department is being expanded and I'm glad that you see so much potential in us," he cleared his throat a little, "but I'm already overworked as it is. I'm pulled into CID so often that I sometimes forget where my own office is."

There was a loud pop as the cork flew from the fizzy wine, followed by some howling as Eddie ran around the office with a cork lodged in his eye. Fletcher ignored the commotion and focused on Robin.

"I understand that," he said, "in fact that was a matter for discussion as much as any other when we spoke about expanding your department. There's been an allocation for the funding of a promotion. Someone who has a firm grip over your work who can step up to co-ordinate matters when you are out of the department.

Robin bit on his lip.

"Who?" he asked.

"Well, you know your team better than anyone," Fletcher assured him, "it would be your decision to make."

A very peculiar feeling travelled through Robin.

"Right," he said.

"You'll need to find someone with enthusiasm, promise and initiative," Fletcher told him, "someone reliable., Someone who has shown dedication to the job. Do you think you'll be able to find someone?"

Robin's eyes turned to Shaz, at the far end of the room, standing giggling with Marci at the sight of Jake extracting a cork from Eddie's eye. He sighed internally and let his eyes close just for a moment. His team weren't exactly the sharpest box of knives, that was for certain, and they left him tearing his hair out more often than not. But there was one exception to that rule and unfortunately it was the woman who had once shared a bed – and her heart – with the woman he loved. _Damnit_.

"_Yes, sir_," he said a little tightly.

"Choose wisely, Robin," Fletcher told him, "I'm sure you'll find the perfect sergeant,"

A million thoughts went around Robin's head. All the different reasons for not choosing Shaz… all the different excuses he could think of for keeping her far away… but when it came down to it he knew he had no other option. Shaz was by far the most efficient, dedicated member of his team and there was no doubting that. He still felt mightily uncomfortable being around her and there was always a niggling worry in the back of his mind that somehow she was going to end up wooing Kim back to her, despite the fact that Kim was in a different world and Shaz believed that she was dead.

He nodded slowly as he watched her smile lighting up the room as she laughed and joked. She was just so nice, so genuinely nice and kind and lovely – it was no wonder Kim had fallen for her so heavily – and Robin knew that he couldn't let his unfounded jealousy affect his decision.

"I think," he said a little stiffly, "that WPC Granger would make an excellent sergeant."

Fletcher smiled and nodded, approving whole-heartedly of the choice.

"I agree," he said, "I'll leave you to do the honours." He accepted a glass of fizzy stuff from Bammo who was wafting it under his nose and raised the plastic cup to everyone. "Cheers, all," he said, "have a good night.

A variety of nods, waves and awkward goodbyes went around the room as he left and Robin breathed out slowly. There was no way around it. He had no other option but to offer Shaz the promotion. The green-eyed monster was well on his way to a permanent post in Robin's life.

~xXx~

"There," Simon jumped in surprise as a large measure of scotch appeared under his nose.

"What's that for?" he asked, looking curiously at Gene.

"Told you there was a glass of the good stuff in it for you," Gene reminded him. 'He frowned at Simon's hesitation. "Take it then, it's better than that bloody fizzy piss Fletcher brought into the place."

Simon had to agree.

"Thanks," he said as he took the glass.

Gene sank onto the edge of a desk. Although his health and strength were returning, a day like _that_ day had proven exhausting and he was feeling the effects.

"Not a bad job today, Shoebury," he conceded.

"More backhanded compliments?" Simon feared that a half-insult was about to emerge but none came.

"Man like that deserves a good hard whack with a blackboard," Gene told him.

Simon sighed as he sipped the scotch.

"Marci had another crack at the girl," he began, "Leila. Put it to her that he was the one who ran the website. Leila went mad. She's given us a lot more information, including one or two facts about some of the time she spent with the arsehole _out_ of school."

"I see," Gene said gruffly, "earning extra credit, I take it?"

"The college were very interested in what Leila had to say," Simon informed him. He put down his glass and folded his arms. "So was his _wife."_

Gene rolled his eyes and stood up.

"I see the infidelity police were on this case," he said.

"What – what's the matter?" cried Simon, "why are you walking away?"

"Because you're more worried about the fireworks he was letting off in the bedroom than the ones he had those kids setting off in the bogs!" Gene told him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Simon raised his palms as though surrendering, "No fidelity police, I promise."

"No offence Simon but I've got more important things to do than listen to yer views on the sanctity of marriage and wondering how yer going to fit my hairy arse into the conversation," said Gene, "Got to put the telly on for one, get those results coming in."

Simon frowned and sighed as he leaned back against the desk. He was starting to feel a little isolated again if he was honest. To one side Gene's team of old were busy lining up water balloons. Terry Bammo, Poirot… To the other there were Marci, Eddie, Jake and Shaz, clanking bottles and sharing tales about the day they'd just had. Simon didn't fit in with either of them. He might have only been marginally older than Marci and the others but he felt as though he was well and truly over the hill compared to them. Perhaps because he carried the weight of so much responsibility on his shoulders

He wasn't the only one sitting alone though. He saw Robin sitting by himself, a glass of the cheap stuff that Fletcher had brought in his hands. He watched as he took a sip and pulled a face. It really did look nasty. But it was the look in Robin's eyes that Simon was mostly worried about. And that was a look that he couldn't ignore.

~xXx~

Alex placed her palm over Gene's shoulder as he switched on the television and turned to BBC1.

"Put BBC two on," she advised.

"No," said Gene.

"It's the _Election Night Armistice_ with Armando Iannucci."

"I'm not watching anything presented by some idiot with a name that sounds like an ironing armadillo" said Gene.

"I think everyone else wants to watch it," said Alex as she noticed a few others wandering over.

"Oh great! Election night armistice!" they heard Shaz say and with a sigh and a roll of his eyes Gene whacked the TV and switched it to BBC2.

"Fine, rot yer tiny brains with this pile of bollocks," he told the gathering crowd, "for the adults amongst us the swingometer will be showing in me office!"

"I didn't wish to know that," he heard Marci say, jumping to the wrong conclusion.

Alex folded her arms across her chest and smiled as she followed Gene to his office. She watched him walking and observed how much easier he seemed to be moving now. While he was still walking awkwardly and should probably still have been using the walking sticks it seemed as though being out there, doing his job, getting involved again had done him the power of good and his recovery was making great progress.

"I remember this the first time around," she commented as Gene bent down to put on the telly.

"Ogling me arse?" he asked.

Alex didn't even greet that with a response.

"Ogling the conservatives getting kicked out of power," she said. He perched against the edge of his desk and gave a deep sigh. "D:Ream were _half_ right, you know, she said, "for a while things did get better. Then they got worse."

"You just described 'life'," Gene told her. Alex gave a distant smile and nodded.

"I think you're right," she said quietly.,

Gene stood up and folded his arms as he watched the swingometer coming into focus on the TV.

"Makes you wonder why they even bothered," he said as the first results began to come through and red dominated the screen, "all very well saving the planet but how many trees died just to prove no one was going to stick their cross in Major's box?"

"It is a bit of a landslide," Alex nodded. She watched as Gene made his way to the filing cabinet and liberated his scotch.

"So," he began, "You over yer _moment_ yet?"

Alex frowned as she found a glass pressed into the palm of her hand.

"What _moment_?" she asked.

"In Tunnel Ears' domain," said Gene. He noticed she looked a little awkward. "Girl's bedroom seemed to do a number on yer tear ducts.

"I wasn't that bad," Alex said quietly.

Gene rested his backside on the desk beside her and looked at her seriously.

"Yes, Bolly," he said, "I do. All the time."

Alex frowned, not following what he meant."

"You do what?" she asked.

"Think about her." Gene's words made Alex's heart seem to freeze for a second. Her expression changed in an instant as she stared at him, sadness and anticipation staring from behind her eyes.

"You think about who?" she whispered, even though she already knew the answer.

"The sprog," Gene tried not to let his voice betray the depth of emotion that he'd done well to fight below the surface for so many weeks, "You asked me if I ever thought about her. Better question is if I ever stop."

Alex looked down into her glass. Her reflection split up and jumped around in the liquid.

"You said it wasn't the time," she whispered.

"I was bloody right and all," Gene told her, "it wasn't a conversation to be had over Leila Geddes's shrine to Mister Maile, you know."

Alex nodded slowly. As heavy as her heart felt when she thought about Gene cutting the conversation dead she knew it had been for a very valid reason.

"I know," she whispered.

Gene breathed slowly in and out. He wanted to open up to Alex, and he wanted her to do the same, but no matter how much tine went by he came no closer to working out what the hell to say. For one thing it wasn't exactly his territory. He was useless with emotions, even now he avoided them like the plague. And for another he just couldn't express the all-encompassing darkness that engulfed him every time he thought about the baby that still existed so far away in a world he could never see.

"Alex," his voice was dark and brought Alex's attention right to him, "I've not forgotten. I think of her all the time. I know you do too, but I can't always say. You know me, Bols. You know me better than anyone else does. It's hard."

Alex nodded sombrely.

"It's hard for me too," she whispered.

Gene took his own glass and sipped from it.

"I know that," he told her, "not forgotten that, you know." He turned her face gently to look him in the eye. "one day. One day we'll talk. You, me, no one else. Long as you need to. All night if we have to."

"We don't 'have' to do anything," Alex said sadly, "I only want to talk if you do. I'm not forcing you into it."

"No, you're not, said Gene, "can't promise I won't make a great big bloody balls-up of everything and send you running away in tears with me great size elevens in the side of me mouth. But we'll talk. Want to," he closed his eyes. "_Need_ to."

Alex bit her lip.

"When?" she whispered.

"Weekend," Gene said before he could chicken out and stop himself. As soon as he'd said it, he committed himself to it; the talk he'd been avoiding for weeks. _Months_ even. He didn't want to look at Alex's face. He already could imagine her expression, the mix of relief and devastation. He felt a hand sliding over his and nodded. "Well talk at the weekend."

Even though it reflected sadness a tiny smile appeared on her face.

"_Thank you,"_ she breathed.

Gene swilled the liquid around in his glass for a moment before taking a large gulp and letting his eyes rest on the TV screen where a predominantly red map was beginning to emerge.

"Brave new bloody world indeed," he muttered.

~xXx~

Robin was surprised by the bottle of beer thrust in front of him.

"There."

He followed the hand up to see Simon standing there, a bottle of his own in the other hand. Robin hesitated. "Go on," Simon prompted, "you look as though you've been licking Geoff's armpits every time you take a sip of that fizzy stuff."

The fizzy wine _was_ foul, there was no denying it. It tasted a bit like carbonated vinegar. He put the glass down and took the bottle instead.

"Thank you," he said, a little surprised. He cautiously sipped from the neck of the bottle. It tasted a bit like fizzy liquidised burnt bread. He pulled a face before he could stop himself.

"Sorry it's not brandy," Simon apologised,

"I just haven't really tried beer," Robin said a little awkwardly.

Simon nodded slowly as he thought back to the night Kim had 'taught him to drink' beer. It made him feel a little strange to think back, for so many reasons.

"You'll learn," he said.

Robin gave a slightly bitter laugh as he raised the bottle to his lips again.

"Learn to remember to bring my own brandy," he said.

Simon smiled.

"Hey, remember those _crazy, heady_ days when we didn't drink?" he said wryly.

"Remember those crazy, heady days when we were still _alive?"_ Robin added.

Simon sighed as he smiled a little bitterly. So much had happened since then. He studied Robin's expression as he drank again. There was a deeply troubled vibe beneath the surface. It wasn't something Simon was used to seeing. Back when they were together people described Robin as being the happy-go-lucky one of the two of them. Simon was always so serious. It wasn't as though Robin played the fool or tried to be the clown of the station, he was just a brighter, happier soul. It hurt Simon seeing him with so much dragging him down.

"Are you doing OK?" he asked.

Robin looked at him.

"In what way?"

"After this morning?"

Robin looked down, feeling guilty about that.

"I'm sorry, I never should have unloaded on you," he said quietly.

"I'm glad you did," Simon felt like he was in danger of saying more than he intended to, "I don't want to be nothing to you, Rob. If we can't be close the way we used to then I want to at least be the one you turn to when you're feeling down."

"Still," Robin said quietly, "not really the type of thing I should have been talking to you about, was it?"

"Why not?"

Robin gave an awkward laugh.

"Come on, Si. We both know Kim's the big white elephant in the room and she always will be."

"Don't let her hear you describing her as an elephant, she'll pierce your arse."

Robin looked down with a distant smile.

"That, she will" he said quietly.,

Simon shuffled awkwardly.

"OK, forget it," he said, "I just want to know if you're OK."

Robin turned back to Simon. His expression was softer and he gave him a small bit grateful smile.

"I'm OK," he said quietly, "I'll be OK." He was lying and they both knew it. In truth, Robin was finding his mind constantly on Kim that night. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though she wasn't already there in his head all of the time. But for some reason that night he missed he so badly that his chest physically hurt from needing her. He felt a big lump in his throat that he couldn't wash away with beer. Desperate not to give in to tears he focused on the TV set cross the office and nodded to it. "Election Night Armistice," he sighed, "I remember it so well. I thought I was _so hardcore _because I stayed up to half one in the morning on a college night."

"_Fight the power,"_ Simon smiled.

Robin sighed and drank more of his beer. He didn't like the taste but he needed something to take the pain away that night, and to give him a bit of Dutch courage for awarding a promotion that stung his heart.

He watched the others crowding round the TV set. Aside from Eddie they were all so innocent, excited, hopeful, discovering the results for the first time, Jake, Marci, Shaz – they were merely living their lives. They had no idea of what would come in the following weeks, months and years.

Robin let out a hefty sigh. He was only just starting to understand the weight that Simon and the others carried on their shoulders. It wasn't a burden that anyone should bear. But if it was a straight choice between that or running the country, he thought as he knocked back most of his drink in one go, he would pick being dead every time.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: The Election Night Armistice was a genuine TV show on that night , an election night version of the show Friday Night Armistice. I have such strong memories of that night and how exciting it felt to see change in action… ahh, we live and learn :-/ There are about 5 chapters left of this fic now – thank you so much for sticking with me x**_


	26. Chapter 25: Not Bigger Than Her

**A/N: Warning, dark chapter**

**Chapter 25**

The last of the bubbles rose to the surface of the tub.

There was a pause, _Three seconds. Four. Five_. Then quite suddenly Kim pushed herself back to the surface of the water and emerged from beneath, gasping for a long, deep breath to refill her lungs. The clear, hot water ran down her face, dripped from her hair and trickled down her features as she pushed her hair out of the way with her hands and blinked to clear her vision. She was still there in the bathroom of the hotel, the dull green tiles doing nothing to take away the fear and the anxiety that she was trapped within. She'd thought the bath might cleanse away a little of the day. Some chance of that. She'd filled the tub right up with water that was far too hot but stepping in she barely felt it. She was numb all over. She could only tell how hot the water was by the fact that her skin began to turn a fairly angry shade of pink.

In the immediate aftermath of discovering that her car had gone she had run from the area, just desperate to escape the scene. She didn't even know what she was running from, nor where she was running _to_. She was sick two more times as she fled Canal Street, her body doing its best to rid her of the alcohol that was still running round her system. By the time she found herself walking to the car park of Stopford House she was shaking and trembling with a mix of fear, exhaustion and the after-effects of the drink. She knew she couldn't be seen like that and would have to head somewhere else. She knew that a hotel room had been booked in her name. Maybe that's what she needed; a night far away from everything. She could shut herself away. There would be no TV, no music, no voices.

'_Kim… Kim, help me –'_

No fucking voices indeed.

_Just the ones inside my head._

She heard Alex crying for her as plain as day but even after she'd spun around on the spot there was no one there, and then as she turned back to the building she could have sworn for a split second that she saw someone plunging from way up above her on the roof. She gasped and stared but it became clear that her mind was playing tricks on her. Tales of Sam Tyler's _splat zone_ were clearly getting to her.

She'd stumbled her way to the hotel and done her best to appear smart and professional but she was in a complete state. Her clothes were creased and stained, her hair lank and her skin bore the tracks of tears. She was given the key to her room and the moment she closed the door she breathed a sigh of relief, as though she had shut the world – and Gene's world – out for a moment.

There were suds floating around her as she slowly moved her hand back and forth across the surface of the water, sending bubbles in all directions. She had no luggage; her few possessions were still in the missing Fiat – but the hotel had provided enough toiletries for her to scrub herself clean.

She swept the tiny soap across her emaciated body, blocking out the sensation of her protruding ribs beneath her fingers. She hated the things she felt as she swept it across her belly and felt the scar from her emergency hysterectomy beneath her touch. Around it her skin sagged, the last remains of a pregnancy stolen from her so cruelly. She swallowed as she continued to rub the soap against her skin, trying to ignore the feeling of her bony hips and the poor tone of her skin from dropping far too much weight, far too quickly. She didn't have to acknowledge any of that.

As she finished her ablutions and set the soap down on the side of the bath she thought she saw a shadow pass by her and gasped out loud the water spilling as she jumped in fear but there was nobody there. She closed her eyes, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. She was weak and shaky and she knew that she needed something more than scotch to right her state this time. Her blood sugar was so low it was practically in the basement. Her stomach felt hollow as it clenched up tightly and reminded her in no uncertain terms that she needed to eat, but she was good at blocking out the hunger pangs by now. It barley registered.

Her head felt very heavy. It was increasingly hard to keep it upright, like it was too heavy for her neck and shoulders to hold up any longer, and as though someone was pushing her it dropped backwards and struck the end of the bath. It wasn't hard enough to knock her unconscious but that didn't matter because she had already blacked out.

Slowly she slid down until her whole face was submerged beneath the water. Just a moment earlier she'd sunk beneath the bubbles of her own accord, trying desperately to cleanse herself of the terrible thoughts and experiences that had plagued her all day long. Now she found herself swallowed up by the hot water and at the mercy of the deepest darkest thoughts as they filled her mind.

Where they came from she had no idea but there they were; _nightmares_, horrific moments from her recent life. There were sounds, voices, cries for help, cries of pain – her _own_ voice amongst them. She felt hot, so _fucking_ hot, as though she was burning in hell as she relived moments that her brain and the alcohol had worked so hard to bury.

There was the bloodbath; _Arthur Layton gunning her and her colleagues down, hearing the screams as she dropped to the floor, the searing pain in her gut as his bullets took away the baby she'd longed for and damn near took away her life as well._

She could hear the sound of the doctors telling her how lucky she was to still be alive, then feeling anything but lucky as they told her that her baby was dead. She could feel the pain in her stomach from the gunshot wound and feel Robin's hand tightening around hers as he sobbed and cried. She could feel the same desperate despair and hopelessness that fell upon her after the shooting.

And then she was back in that hospital room as the news broke of Robin's shooting and death; she could see Kelly walk towards her; the look on her face telling her more than words ever could. She could feel the pain in her throat as she screamed over and over, trying to make Kelly take back the words. Robin was dead. The person she loved most in the world was gone forever. The pain in her heart was a thousand times worse than the one in her body.

But then she found herself plunged into remembering the moment that the physical pain worsened and she couldn't take any more. _Rushed into theatre, internal bleeding, her womb taken away and with it the chance of ever having another child._ She could taste every tear rolling down her face and pooling at the side of her lips. She could see every pitying look that came her way. She was right back there, reliving it, the pain was so great that she almost didn't know how to survive.

And then the images from the television set; the ones that she had been forced to witness the night before, and that morning, and then again in the bar. The visions she'd had… they were playing out in front of her now as though she was _right there. _

She couldn't escape them; the tortured faces, the ones in pain, the ones in fear. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't do a thing.

There he was; _Robin_, the love of her life, his head bloodied and beaten as he tried to keep in the tears. Too proud to beg for mercy, too strong to crack, blow after blow he took until he stopped moving.

_No – _

She tried so hard to scream but her only words were stuck inside of her mind, she couldn't make a sound as visions of flame lapped around her and the sight of bodies on the ground made her want to retch and cough. There was no atmosphere. She was choking… suffocating… the flames burned brightly all around her and took away life after life after life.

"_Please no-"_

But the sight of Alex was the one that terrified her the most. She watched as the shadow lurked over her again, looming large, bringing the fear of an action that Kim knew only too well brought by a man that she hated with every bone in her body.

"_Please stop –"_ Alex's voice was weaker, more scared than Kim had ever imagined hearing it and chilled her inside and out. She wanted to help, she really did but –

"_Kim!"_

Oh _god_, and now she turned to _face_ her… she looked straight _at_ her, spoke right to her. How was that possible?

"_Kim, please, help me"_

She _wanted_ to, oh _fuck_, she'd have given her own life to take Alex away from that situation but what could she do?

"I can't…"

"_Kim, please_!" Alex wept, tears rolling down her face, _"please help me Kim! Please –"_

"Ma'am, I _can't!"_ Kim cried desperately, "I don't know what to _do!"_

"_Just help me!"_

"I don't know how!"

"_Help us!"_

"Ma'am…"

"_Kim, please,"_ Alex cried as the shadow encroached on her, "_please stop him!"_

"I don't know how I can help you!" Kim screamed, pained by the look of fear across her face, "I can't _do_ it, Ma'am! I don't know _how!"_

"_Kimberley –"_

…Eyes open, wide awake…

With that word, that voice, that terrible reminder she regained consciousness in an instant and rose quickly to the surface of the water, coughing and spluttering. There was water in her mouth, in her nose, in her throat – in her lungs? Oh so very nearly. She coughed and hacked as she scrambled upright sending a tidal wave of hot soapy water over the edge of the tub. She panted for air as she choked, water streaming from every orifice. She retched and gagged and brought up a lot of bathwater, the fear of knowing that she'd been so close to drowning just about overtaking the fear of the man who'd said her name. _"Kimberley –"_ she could hear it still inside of her head. Hear _him_. He was in her head. He'd _always_ been in her head. She had never quite been able to fight that. And now here he was, once again.

She quickly scrambled from the suds and stepped out of the bath, still coughing and choking with every breath. Her nose streamed with water and her eyes blurred from both the bath and the tears that she couldn't fight.

"Rob," she whispered tearfully; the memory of the sight of him lying there so motionless and battered churning up her insides. It was real. It couldn't be real. It was only a vision. It was a hallucination. She was tired, she'd had too much to drink, she was weak. _Get to bed… just get to bed and it will all be alright. Everything will be alright in the morning._

Wrapping a towel tightly around herself she tried to rub off the water from her skin, shivering as she did so. She padded through from the bathroom to the main room where she peeled back the covers of the bed and climbed in, shivering the whole time.

The lights flickered and dimmed for a moment as she pulled the bedclothes closer around her. She felt so cold, so tired and so weak. She'd have given anything not to be alone. She longed for someone to hold, for someone to hold _her_, to take away the trauma and the fear.

The lights dipped again but this time they went all the way out and as she found herself frozen with fear a single light source appeared in the corner of the room as the TV flicked itself of. Trembling, she clung to the bed sheets as Robin's battered, bloodied head appeared on the screen and she flinched as she felt her stomach lurch.

"_Please, stop this!"_ she begged the world, "Stop showing me this when there's nothing I can _do!"_

The scene changed instantly to Alex once again with Keats looming over her, his hands wandering, about to take what she did not want to give him. It didn't matter how much Kim screamed, the TV set did not respect her wishes. It just kept on playing out the vilest of images and showing her what she could not fix.

"_Ma'am!"_ she wept horribly, "please… someone stop this… I can't _help_ you!"

"_Yes you can, Kim,"_ Alex shocked her by speaking right to her again.

"_How_ can I help you?!" Kim screamed, "you're in a different bloody_ world!"_

The picture began to break up.

"_You're the only one that can,"_ Alex cried desperately as Kim left the safety of the bed and crawled across to the TV set, _"you have to."_

The picture dissolved into static the second that Kim reached out and brushed her fingers gently to the screen as though she could reach right in to Alex, to touch her, to comfort her.

"_Fuck!"_ she cried, slamming her hands hard against the screen, "_Fuck this!"_ she bashed at the glass as the lights flickered and rose again and the static stung her fingertips.

How could she help them when she was the other side of the line? How was she supposed to save them when she couldn't reach out and touch them? There was only one way to get over there and that was to die; to cease to be, to take her final breath. And even if she took a step so great… so dark… so drastic… then she knew what would happen. Keats had the first pick of suicides and she would find herself with a 'transfer' straight over _there_: Fenchurch West. Right into the hands of Keats.

"_I can't get to you!"_ she screamed, her heart almost wrenched from her body, "Rob, I'm so sorry… Ma'am… I…." she closed her eyes, choking back tears, "and even if I could… If I could get to you without him… taking me first… you _know_ it would only make him worse!"

The gravity of the situation hit her hard as she recalled the things she had seen and the words she had heard. Keats's power and darkness had grown so much stronger because of those who were already there. He had been bad enough and twisted enough when she was in 1995, but now he was drawing more energy from Robin too. Even if something happened right there and then – if the roof caved in or she had a heart attack or an unexplained encounter with a homicidal giraffe - and she awoke a moment later in Gene's world, with her current rank she would only be feeding him more.

"I can't do it!" she wept, "and even if I could I can't take the risk… All that energy... If I came too he'd take even _more_! He'd only get stronger! He's _one man_ and he's taking all the energy from four strong, amazing people already, because there's no one there to stop him," the tears flowed freely as she poured out her heart to the dead TV set, "there's no one to challenge him and no one to snatch any of that energy away from him. He's taking it _all_, and there's no one who –"

She froze. Very suddenly her whole body ceased to move as something slammed into her head with the force of Geoff's old truck. _Bam_. She flinched as her heart sped up and a lump appeared in her throat.

"_No one,"_ she breathed "who can stand firmly beside him without," she swallowed, her voice suddenly lower, calmer and surprisingly measured, "without losing their standing… losing themselves… no one strong enough. No one who can –" she stopped breathing. She literally stopped for several moments, as though she forgot her general duties as a human being. The thought in her head was terrifying. It was mighty and horrifying but it was _there_.

Keats was alone in Fenchurch West with no one to challenge him. No one dared. His Super had no power, he was just a faceless muppet, and if anyone should dare to enter at the same rank as Keats then he'd strip them of their title as soon as look at them because no one could challenge his power. No one could challenge his superiority.

And he got away with it because there was no one strong enough. No one had that strength of mind. No one had the heart and the soul and the determination to fight. No one who hated, loathed and despised him enough to stand firm and to take up the impossible challenge. No one who knew.

No one who _knew._

"_Except for me."_

The words escaped before she could stop them and as soon as the whisper ran wild from her lips she froze right up. She began to pant as though she couldn't get enough oxygen into her body.

_No one except for me._

She swallowed. This was a thought that had come to her from nowhere and terrified her in every possible way, but now it was there inside her mind it wouldn't leave. Her eyes closed forcibly as she tried to regulate her breathing and to fight back the nausea swamping her.

If someone was _there_, someone who would stand as an equal to Keats, someone who would simply not be shaken by his instruction, who hated him _that much_ …who had the inner-strength and the bloody minded stubbornness to defy him then that energy would be split two ways.

Keats would still be dark and evil but he wouldn't have control. Not any longer. And that would be the first step –

The first step to –

"_The first step,"_ she whispered shakily, "_to breaking him down."_

She opened her eyes and focused on the TV screen ahead of her. Every part of her body was shaking but it wasn't through the need for alcohol, nor fear, nor through the cold air that was chilling her still-damp body. It was adrenaline, anticipation, an answer that has come to her from nowhere.

_Plip._

The TV screen switched on. The music video that greeted her was not unexpected.

_#...And I feel like I'm breaking up, and I wanted to stay_

_Headlights on the hillside, don't take me this way_

_I don't want you to hold me, I don't want you to pray_

_This is bigger than us…#_

She swallowed as she stared ahead of her. She knew what she had to do. She _hated_ it. She had never been so scared in her damn life before. But if it was the only way to save the people she loved and the friends she treasured…

"_You,"_ she whispered, "_are not bigger than me, Keats. I'm going to take you on."_

Her body was weak and frail, ruined by weeks and months of refusing to eat or sleep and by throwing alcohol down her neck at every available opportunity, but inside she had never felt stronger.

This was it.

She could feel it coming. There was something in the air.

_Showtime._


	27. Chapter 26: Alright for Fighting

_**A/N: I'm sorry, this chapter was supposed to be humorous but instead I angsted all over the place**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 26**

Alex wanted to sigh sadly as she caught sight of Robin looking lost and lonely. She felt a little guilty as she realised how he had been neglected recently. They had stopped checking on him to se how he was coping with his separation from Kim. That wasn't fair. Just because he didn't seem to show his suffering as blatantly as others had in the past didn't mean that he wasn't hurting. He did a better job of internalising his feelings than Simon or Gene had been when life and death had separated them from who they loved. But that in itself could be dangerous. Alex knew that.

She was surprised to see him starting on yet another beer. Although she knew he wasn't the teetotaller that he once was she also knew that he didn't drink habitually. When she had spent time living with him and Kim she recalled them sharing a few drinks but only the time-travelling turkey had led him to down his sorrows properly. Since arriving permanently into Gene's world he'd been careful to avoid abusing alcohol – he'd heard the effect that the stuff had had on Simon and wanted to avoid travelling down the same path of self-destruction.

But something was clearly bothering him as he moved onto what seemed to be his fifth of the night. With a sigh she walked slowly towards him, wondering what she was supposed to say. Her concern for him grew when she noticed he was staring at his dead watch. That wasn't a healthy sign. She sidled up to him, a glass of red wine in her hand and asked,

"Admiring the craftsmanship on that?"

Robin hadn't even noticed her approaching.

"What?" he realised he sounded rude and shook his head a little, "sorry. I was miles away."

"Miles away or _years_ away?" Alex asked gently and saw his face falling. She reached out and laid her hand gently on his arm. "I'm sorry, Robin. You didn't really seem yourself tonight." She watched him swigging from his beer. "I was worried about you."

"It's been a long day," Robin shrugged awkwardly. He glanced at Alex. She wasn't going to let things rest there, he could tell from the look on her face. He sighed, gulped down some more beer and finally conceded, "It's Kim. I'm missing her. Finding it hard right now" He let out an unexpected belch at a volume that made Alex draw back a little.

"Missing her or turning _into_ her?" she cried in slight alarm.

Robin was too drunk by now to be embarrassed.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he rubbed his chest, "not used to the beer."

"Or to drinking his much in general," Alex pointed out.

Robin gave a slightly awkward laugh.

"You're not kidding" he said sadly.

As he raised his hand to bring the bottle to his mouth again Alex caught his arm and lowered it again.

"Then maybe you should stop," she suggested, "Hmm?"

Robin knew she had a point and both his spinning head and slurred words confirmed it. But he wasn't ready to switch to water just yet.

"I'm OK," he said, "just gad a few hard days lately. That's all." he looked down. "Her birthday was hard."

Alex felt a cloud settling over her shoulders. She had remembered but hadn't wanted to bring it up.

"I'm sorry, Robin," she sad quietly.

"And pretty soon our anniversary's coming up," Robin slouched against the desk, "and that's going to be extra awkward. Know why?" he looked at Alex as she shook her head, "because it happens to be the same day that me and Simon celebrated _ours_," he gave a slightly awkward laugh as he saw the look of surprise on Alex's face. "Last year. She was supposed to be cheering me up. Comforting me." His cheeks reddened. "Turns out she did the job a bit too well." He bit his lip, "so that was the first time we…" he trailed away, looking embarrassed.

"You can say it, Robin, I had the practical demonstration," Alex reminded him which set him an even deeper shade of red.

"Sorry," he mumbled and drank some more beer. He still pulled a slight face every time. He supposed he would be sticking with brandy in the future. "Well you must have enjoyed it enough to want a turn yourself." As soon as he spoke he realised how awful that sounded and he looked at Alex, somewhat horrified. "Oh _god_," he pressed his hand to his forehead, "Alex, I'm sorry –"

For a moment she stared at him in shock, unsure whether to be amused or highly offended. As soon as she saw his own mortification her expression softened.

"Robin, it's OK," she said, "but maybe it's a good indicator that you need to step away from the beer."

Robin closed his eyes for a second then nodded. His lips were flapping and getting him into trouble.

"Maybe you have a point," he said as he sat the bottle down on the desk and hiccupped. Alex shuffled and looked a little nervous.

"We… we never talked about that," she said quietly, "did we?"

Robin looked at her seriously. He was still sober enough that there was only one of her and she wasn't swimming around all over the place.

"Alex, we didn't need to," he said quietly.

"It's hard to believe that we don't have to say _anything_," Alex bit her lip, "after what… happened…"

Robin shook his head.

"Kim and me… we talked it all over," he said, "it's not like… I mean, me and Kim, were… _different_," he rubbed his eyes. Trying to explain this was going to give him a headache. "We're in a weird position. You know that."

"I saw you in a _few_ weird positions," Alex shuddered at the memory.

_"Not like that!"_ Robin cried.

"Sorry."

Robin gave a very deep sigh.

"It's the kind of thing Simon would have us locked up in a padded cell for," he said quietly, "but we both agreed… I mean, there's stuff we need… that we can't give each other…"

"I very explicitly saw Kim giving that to you," Alex involuntarily covered her eyes as she recalled some of the things she had witnessed.

"_That isn't the same!"_ Robin protested, "I mean… oh, it doesn't mater." He looked down and scuffed his toe on the floor. "For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I'm really glad you were there for her."

Alex felt awkward. She'd done a bit more for Kim than just '_been there'_ for her and she knew that. Robin's attitude surprised her and didn't seem to be caused by the booze.

"I feel like I should be… _apologising_," she said but Robin shook his head.

"Don't do that," he said, "hardly normal circumstances," he paused and gave a short frown, "although I was sort of surprised that it was _you_."

Alex wasn't sure whether to be offended by that or not.

"What do you mean?" she frowned, "What's wrong with me? You don't think Kim would…" she felt herself turning red, not quite ready to finish that sentence. Robin saw how she had misunderstood and shook his head.

"No, no, not at all," he told her, "in fact it was pretty clear she had a thing about you," he laughed a little, "_so_ funny, she was always kind of shy about that. Like she didn't want you to know. She was all kind of embarrassed." He smiled distantly. "I think she really looked up to you."

Alex looked down, trying not to smirk. She liked hearing that, even though she felt a little awkward about it, She drank a lot of wine and breathed deeply as she tried to get her breath back.

"What _did_ you mean then?" she asked, "when you said you were surprised it was me?"

"I meant you," Robin said, "I mean, I thought… I thought you would have _mentioned_…" the drink had stolen any semblance of eloquence. "I just thought you were straight."

"Nothing like being direct," Alex sighed. She reached for a nearby bottle to refill her glass. "I thought you were gay," she countered.

"I am."

"_Touché."_

The moment they realised how bizarre their conversation had become they both broke into awkward smiles and looked down. Alex wasn't going to get into a conversation about her sexuality while she had a few glasses of wine in her system. It wasn't that easy. She supposed she, like so _many_ people, had had fleeting thoughts and feelings in the past but none so strong that she'd ever felt the need to act on them before. Not until Kim. She felt butterflies inside her as she thought about that night.

"Well maybe Kim's just special," Robin said a little sadly.

"Kim, and Scully from the X Files," Alex recalled a conversation from a long time ago. That made Robin give a little nostalgic laugh.

"So for two people whose preference lies with the male of the species," he began, "we apparently have the same taste in women." The conversation was about as ridiculous as it was ever going to get. He lifted his bottle and held it toward Alex who raised her glass in a ridiculous toast.

"Alright, I'll drink to that," she conceded. She sipped her wine and Robin went back to gulping down his beer. Her anxiety began to raise again as she looked at his stressed expression. "Are you _sure_ you're alright?" she asked quietly.

Robin looked at her and this time he couldn't seem to cover up.

"Not right now, no," he said quietly, "but tomorrow I'll be fine."

"Tomorrow you'll be hungover," Alex took the bottle out of his hand and set it down away from him. "Get some water." She rubbed his shoulder gently and kissed his cheek to show him that she was thinking of him, then with a sympathetic smile she left to find Gene. Seeing Robin so low had reminded her just how much she appreciated being back home, and back with Gene. She wanted to make sure that he knew it, too.

Robin stared at his shoes which were starting to float around in his field of vision. Alex was right, he needed to put the beer away, get some water and stop making things worse for himself. He didn't like being drunk. Not like this anyway. It was different if he was drinking with Kim. Fun, silly, _happy_. Now? He just felt depressed.

"I thought you were going to complete the circle then."

Robin jumped a little and looked up to find Simon lurking by his side. He hadn't seen him nearby.

"I'm sorry?" he frowned.

"You and Alex," Simon was smiling but the smile was clearly fake, "aren't you the only ones of your strange little threesome who haven't done the deed?"

Robin's anger started to rise. Simon had been on his best behaviour recently but Robin wasn't the only one who'd been knocking back the booze that night and the effects of the alcohol had loosened Simon's lips.

"Don't, Si, I'm not in the mood," Robin dismissed, waving his hand in the air.

"You seemed to be getting fairly friendly," Simon sad suspiciously. He saw Robin's jaw drop.

"Will you _listen_ to yourself?" he cried, "you're bloody paranoid! Me and _Alex_?" he shook his head crossly, "she's a woman!"

"Some might say the same about _Kim," _Simon said sarcastically.

Robin narrowed his eyes.

"Where the hell has this come from?" he cried, "we were getting on fine earlier! You were being really supportive!" he closed his eyes for a moment. "I suppose what happened between now and then is a six pack of beer."

"You're a fine one to talk," Simon challenged, "I've sat there watching you knock back beer after beer."

"What the hell were you 'watching' me for in the first place?" cried Robin.

"I was worried about you!"

"I'd be fine if everyone minded their own business," Robin mumbled as he reached out to reclaim his bottle. Simon shook his head.

"I'm worried about you, Rob." He said, "I've never seen you drink like this before."

Robin didn't like being questioned.

"Double bloody standard!" he cried, "I've heard nothing but how much you've drunk since you've been here! Even _you_ told me that. This is the _one_ time I've been pissed and suddenly it's all, _Robins on the sauce, call an intervention?!"_

"Exactly - you're not _used_ to it! You need to pace yourself."

"Please spare me the lecture," Robin drained his bottle, sat the empty on a desk and walked away, partly to find more booze and partly to step away from the conversation before it blew up it of all proportion. Unfortunately for Robin Simon followed him.

"Sounded like a pretty awkward conversation with Alex," he said and Robin spun around on the spot.

"Well it wasn't."

"You weren't exactly discussing Kim's hottest moves in bed, were you?"

"_Listen"_ Robin began through gritted teeth, "you stop _right now_. It's none of your business. "

"Kim _cheated_ on you!"

"Well I don't see it that way," Robin sad crossly.

"How can you _not_?"

"_Because me and Kim aren't a normal couple,"_ Robin cried, "and like it or not we have different needs. And if Kim and Alex wanted to slink off down the corridor and spend some quality time with a can of whipped cream –" he noted Simon turning visibly pale. _Good_. He needed to shock him into understanding, "then I would be fine about it. I'd go and buy them the bloody can! But you know what? I can't. And _they_ can't. And do you know why? Because Kim isn't here."

Simon started to look pained. He began to wish he'd never started this.

"Keep your fucking voice down!" he hissed.

"Then stop making me angry!" cried Robin.

"I didn't mean to!"

"Yes you did!" Robin hissed, "It's exactly like your therapist told you."

"Rob…"

"You've stated being obnoxious to get the attention you crave because you're no longer getting it from a romantic relationship."

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it?" cried Robin, "So you're just being cruel for the sake of it?"

"And anyway," Simon completely blocked out Robin's point, "you're a fine one to talk, wanting to be the centre of attention!"

Robin's mouth fell open and he stared at Simon in total shock. If there was one thing Robin hated it was attention.

"Excuse me?" he cried, "in what far away land in your head could I have _possibly_ been craving attention?"

"All that stuff this afternoon with your shirt!" cried Simon.

Robin stared at him blankly.

"What?"

"A couple of months without Kim shoving stuff in every orifice and it's, _off comes the shirt and out come the muscles!"_

Robin felt himself turning very bright red through sheer embarrassment. The events of the afternoon involving the mass-ogling incident had been a shock to him and disturbed him highly. He had no idea how to deal with that much attention.

"Simon, my shirt was covered with _egg!"_ he cried, aware that by now people were starting to stare, "It was _horrible_, I could not stand it any longer, I had to take it off!" he jabbed a finger into Simon's chest, a move which came as a shock to both of them as he continued, "and for your information I don't think I have ever felt more humiliated or more uncomfortable than the moment I realised I'd turned into a one-man _Chippendale_ show. _You_ didn't help!"

"I'm sorry?"

"You were as bad as the rest of them!" Robin cried, "I _hated_ being on display like that! You of _all_ people should have known that!"

"Yeah, well," Simon started to feel his own face redden. He did know Robin better than that. He knew how much he hated attention. But he just couldn't drop it, he'd put away more units than Robin had and a combination of the alcohol and that need for attention that his therapist had pointed out to him had left him unable to stop picking away at Robin, a little at a time, "you still found yourself quite an audience. How does it feel to be the station's pin-up?"

"Oh, _fuck_ this," Robin turned around and picked up a can of lager, "I'm no such thing."

"Got yourself a little admirer, haven't you?" Simon pressed.

"What?"

"Come on, Rob, you think I'm stupid, I've seen you and Jake."

"You what?" Robin turned around so fast that he practically inflicted a case of whiplash on himself, "You've '_seen'_ me and Jake? Seen what exactly? The way we've been avoiding each other like the plague ever since the dancing incident? Simon, we _just_ managed to clear the air today. I thought _you_ had too from the look of things earlier."

"I did," Simon said, "but –"

"But what?" Robin's face screwed up in confusion, "_fuck_, Simon, there's nothing going on with me and Jake."

"You said yourself you were lonely."

"Yes, I am! I'm missing Kim! It doesn't mean I'm going to go jumping into bed with someone at the nearest available opportunity!"

"It didn't stop Kim," Simon said rudely and as soon as the words left his mouth he knew he'd overstepped the mark. As quick as a flash Robin was right there in his face, an inch away. Nose to nose they stood as Robin hissed;

"_I beg your pardon?"_

Simon almost gulped but he stood his ground.

"There's no way of knowing what she's doing," he said, "or should I say, _who_ she's doing?"

That did it.

"Right," Robin spat, grasping Simon's shirt in his hand and pulling him towards him, "you take that back _right now."_

"Come on, Rob, you know exactly what she's like!"

"Which is apparently more than I know about _you!"_ Robin cried as Simon shoved him back, "what the hell have you become?"

_"Your ex!"_ cried Simon, "_that's_ what I became! And I have to look at your face every fucking day to remind me of that!"

"Well I'm sorry my _face_ offends you so much! It's not like I want to be here. If I could go home I would do it in an instant!" cried Robin."

"Back to Kim?"

"Yes, back to Kim!"

"That's if there's still room in bed for you," Simon hissed and found a fist connecting with his eye.

_"Take that back!"_ Robin yelled as Simon scrambled to stay upright then launched a flying punch at Robin's torso. Fist struck muscle and had little effect but he followed it up by grasping Robin by the head and almost pulling him over. "Get the fuck _off_ me!" Robin cried.

_"Fuck you!"_ Simon screamed as he felt Robin's elbow strike him hard in the guts. It knocked the wind from him a little and he lost his grasp over Robin but quickly recovered enough to throw a punch at his face, splitting his lip on contact and sending him reeling back into the desk behind him.

"_They're fighting!" _an unnecessary comment came from somewhere in the room.

"_Gene, stop them!"_ they heard Alex call at the same time as Shaz begged, "_someone do something!"_

The voices distracted Simon enough for him not to notice as Robin took a run-up and grasped Simon by the shoulders before throwing him to the ground. The increased strength from his workouts took Simon completely by surprise and it took him a moment to react, eventually grasping Robin by the leg and dragging him down to the floor where he gouged at his cheek while Robin delivered to Simon one fresh black eye before hands reached from either side and the two men were pulled apart. Gene dragged Simon to his feet while it took both Alex and Jake, holding an arm each, to hold Robin back.

"_Let me go!"_ Simon hissed.

"Been enough fighting in political circles today," Gene told him crossly " not intending to let it spill over into me station an' all."

"I'm OK, I'm OK," Robin told Alex and Jake, "let go."

"Robin, you were out of control," Alex hissed.

Robin hesitated. He knew that.

"I'm sorry," he said, the shame of what he'd done filtering through, "I… I'm OK. I'm calm."

"You don't look very calm," Alex said cautiously.

"I'm sorry," Robin's voice was quieter now. He felt the most awful sense of guilt as he glanced at Simon, his eye half-closed and swollen. "Shit, I'm _sorry."_

Gene's grip on Simon loosened a little as he pulled away and glanced around.

"Sorry," he said gruffly.

Gene stared angrily from one to the other.

"I never thought I would say this," he began "But I liked you two better when you were banging each other's brains out instead of trying to bash them in!" he looked from one to the other; two ashamed yet still angry expressions stared back. "Simon. In my office pronto."

"But –"

"Shoebury, just get in there," Gene barked and Simon's head drooped like a dog being told off by its master.

"_Fine,"_ he mumbled crossly, slouching away.

Gene looked at the state of Robin.

"Dawson, you're supposed to be our first-aider, so here's yer first task. Take this one away and clean that lip of his."

Jake looked at him a little nervously.

"What?"

"Before there's so much red on our carpet that bloody Hollywood stars begin trailing through CID," Gene barked.

Jake looked a little anxious but Gene's tone wasn't to be argued with. He turned to Robin who was touching his split lip cautiously, flinching as he did so.

"Come on, sir," he said quietly, "I'll clean this up."

As they parted ways both Robin and Simon glanced over their shoulder at one another. The regret had been as vibrant and instant as their fight had been in the first place. Something had just boiled over between them. After being so close for so many years all that passion and energy had to go somewhere. The question was, how could they deal with that without pulling each other apart?


	28. Chapter 27: The End Is Nigh

**Chapter 27**

Almost as soon as the realisation struck Kim so did the gravity of what she was about to do.

Her hands rose to her mouth as the shock of her own intentions hit her and she slipped from the bed to the ground where she began to walk in circles, still bare from her bath, the cold air not affecting her any longer. It was as though the moment the thought entered her head the little sense of feeling that she had left of body and mind faded and died.

_Can I really be thinking of doing this? Can I really be thinking about dying?Taking my life to save theirs?_

She stopped walking and swallowed.

_Killing myself?_

Her heart was racing. She didn't need to put a hand over it to confirm that. She could feel it beating away hard in her chest. The one sign that she was still alive, no matter how dead her mind and her spirit felt. There was a feeling of nausea lurking as she closed her eyes and thought about the implications of what she had realised. She had seen a lot of things that terrified her. Seeing Robin beaten until he as black and blue, watching Keats encroach upon a drugged and helpless Alex, then all the smoke and flame that licked around both familiar faces and those she didn't know – the images chilled and shook her inside.

But they were just visions. Pictures on a TV screen. Images in nightmares. She didn't know if they were real. Not for certain anyway. All she had was her own instinct.

_But my instinct hasn't been wrong so far._

She shuddered as her mind replayed everything that she had seen. It made her flinch all over again at the horror of Keats's actions. She felt her breathing quicken as she thought about the evidence; how with each new face in the world Keats had become darker and more corrupt. It made perfect sense that Robin's arrival – not to mention Alex's return – had just about sent him over the edge. Kim also knew that if she arrived on the right side of the line of the law – belonging to Fenchurch East – then the energy Keats received would be more than deadly. It would practically make him a one-man Armageddon.

"_But I,"_ she whispered as she lifted her dead watch from the bedside cabinet_, "am destined to die."_

The knock that sounded at the door made her jump out of her skin and shaking like a leaf she set her watch down again and grabbed the quilt from the bed to wrap carefully around her naked torso. What the hell? Who was that?

"Hello?" she said shakily as she walked to the door.

"_DCI Stringer, is it?"_ a voice asked.

Kim leaned slightly against the door.

"Who's this?" she demanded.

"_I'm Michelle, I'm working on the desk tonight,"_ the voice called back, _"we had reports of shouting coming from your room. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright."_

Kim closed her eyes and turned her back to the door so she could lean against it properly. Her heart was pounding as she said quietly,

"I'm fine. Thank you for asking." She swallowed, "the lights went out. It freaked me a bit, that's all. I'm afraid of the dark." She flinched as she realised that wasn't far from the truth, except that the kind of darkness she had in mind was more permanent than a blackout, "_…I'm afraid of the dark_," she whispered.

"_Well,"_ the voice said a little awkwardly, "_as long as everything's alright?"_

Kim tried to calm her breathing.

"Yes," she whispered, "everything is fine. Thank you."

She stood there breathing heavily and listening to the footsteps fading away before she opened her eyes and allowed herself to resume her train of thought. It wasn't a train of thought she even wanted to think about but she had no choice.

"_He's too powerful,"_ she whispered, "_there's no one to challenge him."_

She remembered Alex telling her that Simon had been tricked by Keats into working for him at some point after she left that world but that almost instantly he had been demoted so that his rank was not a threat to Keats. Even if she found her way into Fenchurch West there was nothing to say that he wouldn't do the same to her.

"Except," she whispered out loud as she turned to face her reflection in the full-length mirror in the wardrobe door, "that I am stronger than Simon." She stared herself in the eye, "and I can be stronger than _you, too_," she spat, "_Keats_."

Hey eyes fell. She said that _now_, but she knew it hadn't always been the case. All those months she spent at his beck and call, kept in hand by promises, pills and nitrous oxide. She shook her head angrily as she realised how much stronger she was now. In a way that ordeal had made her stronger. Stronger, and colder. All those years when she couldn't feel…. Robin had managed to pull her away from that. He'd showed her how to love, to feel joy, to embrace emotions again. But he was gone. Now all she had left was bitterness and anger.

She was numb. Dead inside.

"Now my body," she whispered, "will simply be in line with my soul."

She swallowed as she thought about the very real consequences that her actions would have. She thought about the people she was leaving behind. Her sons; her beloved boys. The children that she was starved of access to by her poisonous ex-wife. What would they think? As far as they would know she had simply not been able to take Robin's death and killed herself. They'd never understand.

It wasn't as though the thought had never crossed her mind. In the aftermath of losing everything there had been times she had come within a millimetre of pressing a knife into her skin, or tipping out all the pills from a bottle and throwing them down her throat with the rest of her scotch. But she knew what would be waiting on the other side if she gave in so she had fought against it, turning instead into a cold, unfeeling individual. _A shell_.

_Dead inside._

And then there was Julian. Oh _god_, the brother she had only just come to meet again. There was so much she wanted to tell him, so much she longed to ask. She had seen a glimpse of what it was like to have him in her life and she wanted to get to know the person he had become. She finally had that chance and meeting him felt like fate – how could she deprive herself of that opportunity? How could she take it away from _him?_

And then her family, estranged as she was… they'd have to cope with losing a daughter. And there was Linda… whatever might have happened between them, at one point they'd had something. And Molly, _poor girl_ – after losing her mother she had become quite attached to Kim. Whether it was the connection with Alex or seeking a mother figure of some kind that her foster mother wasn't quite delivering on Kim wasn't sure but there had been an increasing number of calls and visits.

Or maybe Molly was just worried about her. That was also an option.

He hung her head as she recalled the disjointed call that she'd received from Molly on the way to Manchester; the distress in her voice, talking about something scaring her and some connection to Sam Tyler. _Sam bloody Tyler_. He was the last person who'd committed suicide to make it to the other world, but in Sam's case it was for a far more positive reason.

Would she even end up on the side she was looking to reach? Just because Keats claimed to have the first pick of suicides didn't mean it was true. He wasn't exactly the most honest soul shed ever met, and there was no way to know for sure.

She could wake up in the other world with her title gone and Keats in could wake up at Fenchurch East and feed Keats enough energy to send him completely over the edge. Maybe she wouldn't even wake up there at all. There were so many variables. The odds were stacked aganst her and yet the idea never left her mind, not even for a second.

The simple fact was that even all the people in the real world who would mourn her combined would not outweigh the love and affection she had for those on the other side; Robin, the love of her life; Simon who'd been her best friend, Alex who – well, she wasn't exactly sure _where_ to class Alex… somewhere along the lines of a combination of the two… but the fact was that the world she had once resented with every fibre of her being now held all the most important people in her life and she knew, she _already_ knew, that she had no other option but to make the ultimate sacrifice. She had to do it, _for them._

"_I'm coming, Keats,"_ she whispered, _"it's time to fuck shit up."_

As she spoke the room darkened as the electricity went out again. Despite this, the TV screen lit up with images of flame and through the speakers came a voice that cried, _"he's still in there… find him. He's my son –"_

She swallowed as she watched the vision flicking between fire and captives, each image more horrid than the last until she screamed out;

"_Stop!_ Please stop! I'm _doing_ this… give me… give me _time_…"

A knock on the door made her gasp in fright.

"_DCI Stringer?"_ a voice called out, _"It's Michelle from the desk again." There was a pause. Can you let me in?"_

Kim shook from head to toe as the TV switched off again and she shuffled to the door, still encased in the bed quilt. She hesitantly opened the door just a crack and saw flickering light outside.

"I brought you this," Michelle explained as Kim opened the door wider to reveal that the woman was carrying a candle. She peered out in surprise. "I know you said you didn't like the dark," she explained, "so I thought this might help."

Kim stared at the candle. It seemed like such a strange gesture, and although she had only been feeding the woman a line to get rid of her the dark it was especially helpful and she appreciated it.

"_Thank you,"_ she said quietly as she reached out to take it.

"The electric company are working on the issue," Michelle explained, "we hope the power will be back shortly. In the meanwhile is there anything else we can do?"

"No," Kim said quietly before rethinking in an instant and changing her mind, "yes… this might sound like a silly request but could you please bring me a notebook?"

Michelle blinked.

"A notebook?"

"And a pen?"

Michelle was used to fairly bizarre requests from hotel guests. Despite what Kim had said this was one of the more normal ones.

"Of course," she said with a smile.

Kim watched as she turned to leave, then looked down at the candle in her hands. It flickered delicately as though constantly a moment away from going out. So precarious. _Just like life._ She turned and carefully carried it to the table, wondering how many health and safety rules and regulations had been broken to allow Kim the use of the damn thing before she sat it down and took a step back. The candle seemed like such a bloody metaphor.

"it would serve you right if I blew you out," she told it, cross with it for making her think about such things.

The door was still open a crack so when Michelle returned she simply placed the notebook and pen through into the corner of the room.

"Here you are, madam," she said, "if there's anything else you need just ask."

Kim gave her a weak smile as she watched the woman close the door behind her and heard her footsteps fading away down the corridor. Still wrapped in the quilt, she walked to the door and lifted the paper and pen from the ground. She carried them across to the table and sat down in front of the candle, placing the notebook beside it and opening it to the first page.

She felt her stomach churning as she took the lid from the pen and slipped it onto the other end. Her hand was shaking now, shaking with the knowledge of the words that she was about to impart to the paper. The notebook had no idea what was about to hit it. If it had, it would surely have followed another dream in life; to be a newspaper or a book or a '_Hi My Name Is'_ sticker for people at conventions or courses.

At the top of the first page she carefully wrote the date and took a deep breath. On the next line she wrote two words that started the tears flowing;

"_Dear Julian."_

From there onward her eyes never dried for a second. There was no stopping the tears as she went on.

"_I'm writing this in the hope that you might understand why I've done what I've done. It's so hard to explain but it was a choice that I had to make. There's so much of my life that you don't know, that I've had to keep hidden. But there comes a time when worlds collide and the secrets are destined to come out. I want to tell you this in my own words because there will be so many lies and mistruths coming out. Please listen to my story and try to put yourself in my place…"_

For two hours Kim sat and poured out her heart, her troubled mind and her life story to the lined pages that lay before her. She wrote and wrote until her hand hurt too much to go on and the notebook ran out of lined ammunition. By the time she had finished the candle had all but burnt out and so had her tears.

It was the last act that she could accomplish in a world that had no pull left for her. She wanted one person at least to understand. _Needed_ him to. Whether he believed her or not was something she couldn't control. But Julian had made her promise to say goodbye before she left. This wasn't what he'd meant but at least she kept a promise.

As she replaced the lid on the pen and laid it down beside the book she drew in her breath and let it out slowly; feeling her chest and her stomach expand and contract as she did so. It reminded her that she was still alive. She would repeat that action on the other side to know for sure she had made it.

That was a journey still to be made.

It was time to begin.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Those of you who follow my fic Strange Little Girl, go back and read the very first chapter (well, the prologue) - Things will suddenly start to make sense. Plus, it shows how far in advance I've had this planned!)**_

_**I… I think this awful period of hating my fics and being on the edge of giving up might have finally passed. And this time I mean passed, not just stopped temporarily. Thank you so much for putting up with me while I've been feeling low, I appreciate you reading, reviewing, following and supporting me more than you'll know. **_

_**But special, deep thanks to Ranty who has definitely had to listen to way too much griping and angsting from me about writing – My love, without your intervention my fics would be dead and gone by now, and my profile bare and desolate. You are amazing! *PROMISES NOT TO KICK STUFF* And Charlotte and Jessica, massive thanks to both of you, you have made me feel excited about my own fics again for the first time in months and months. Huge hugs and fishy biscuits to you both!**_

_**I have written over 8,200 over 3 whole chapters today… so expect another chapter posted in the morning!**_

_**I. AM. BACK!**_


	29. Chapter 28: Shipbuilding

_**A/N: So yesterday I went writing crazy and somehow got three chapters written. I posted one last night, here's the second, and I might post another tonight or save it for tomorrow morning, I'm not sure yet.**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 28**

Simon paced round and round the room until Gene felt positively dizzy watching him.

"Me desk got a high gravitational pull has it?" he demanded.

Simon's eyes snapped over to him.

"What?"

"You've gone into bloody orbit!" Gene accused.

Simon closed his eyes and stopped pacing.

"Sorry," he said. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry, about everything. Stupid fight."

"What's Batman done _this_ time?" Gene asked, "borrowed yer working model of Starbug without passing yer strict usage requirements?"

Simon felt tired suddenly as he contemplated talking to Gene. He slumped into a chair, his posture resembling a moody teen who'd been told to be back by nine when the party went on to midnight.

"My stupid fault," he mumbled "I got carried away that's all."

"Thought you'd called a truce," Gene told him.

Simon gave a hefty sigh.

"We had," he admitted "that makes me feel worse. I just stormed in, made a bloody idiot of myself." He paused as he groaned. "And completely insulted Robin. I didn't _mean_ to." He shook his head. "I can't get over my stupid bloody anger. I hear Kim's name and go berserk."

"The barrel o'beer in yer veins probably isn't helping," Gene reminded him.

"Probably not," Simon sighed deeply.

Gene studied Simon. It wasn't the first time the man had been in a fight. In fact he'd entered into one with Gene himself just days after arriving; a fight that saw Gene barred from his beloved _Latte Land_ for several weeks.

"I think you've got a problem, Shoebury," Gene told him.

Simon looked at him crossly.

_"I know,"_ he snapped, "I'm _already_ under a bloody therapist. What _more_ do you want?"

"No, I mean yer technique," Gene told him, "Make a fist."

Simon hesitated.

"I'm sorry?"

Gene demonstrated.

"Go on, make a fist. Show me how you hold yer hand."

"Gene, I'm not making a fist," Simon frowned.

"Imagine Batman swanning in here with his tongue down Stringer's neck," Gene recommended. Despite it being a throwaway comment he saw a scowl form over Simon's face. "_Now_ show me."

Involuntarily Simon raised his hand, fist clenched.

"I don't get what –"

"See, _here's_ yer first mistake," Gene set about rearranging the formation of Simon's fingers and thumb, "_There._ You need to hold yer hand more like this."

"Are you _seriously teaching me_ how to _punch_ someone?" Simon demanded.

"Not that you didn't give me a fair bloody shiner after Jimbo lent you his video collection," Gene began, the unfortunate memory of his hairy backside in proximity to _Mrs Shoebury _being something he probably shouldn't have been bringing back to Simon, "but you could have got far more power behind yer punch if you'd held yer hand like this."

"You _are_, you're teaching me how to _punch_ someone," Simon cried, not sure whether to be horrified or grateful.

"Well it's bloody frustrating watching you and knowing you could do better," Gene told him.

Simon narrowed his eyes at Gene.

"This is sounding suspiciously like fatherly advice," he said.

"Bugger off then," Gene told him, "carry on punching like a girl!"

"I do _not_ punch like a girl!" cried Simon.

"You ever been punched by yerself?" Gene demanded.

"I don't need to be punched by myself to know my technique is fine!"

"Alway's room for improvement," Gene told him, "come on, Shoebury, humour me. I've to decades of police brutality to pass on."

Simon hesitated. Then, very slowly, he returned his fist to the position that Gene had left it in.

"_There,"_ he said, "is that right?"

Gene studied the pose and nodded.

"Not bad, Shoebury," he agreed, "we'll make a man out of you yet. Next step is practice."

"Who exactly are you suggesting I practice _on_?" Simon demanded.

"People who say _The Outer Limits_ is better than _The X Files,"_ Gene sad sarcastically, "I'm not suggesting you go out leaving a trail of black eyes in yer wake! Get the number of that gym Batman spends his off-duty hours at, find yerself a punchbag and get some training."

"I don't get it," Simon felt lost.

"You've got to do something about that temper of yours," Gene told him, "much as I respect Bolly's belief in all that psychology bollocks it doesn't seem to be doing much for you and yer red mists. So do something practical."

Simon thought it over. What Gene said made some sense. As much as he hated what he'd done to Robin the act of physically throwing the punches had given him a sense of release.

"You might be right," he said reluctantly

"I'm the Gene Genie, the chances of me being wrong are negligible," Gene told him.

Simon hated to admit it but he felt that Gene might just have something there. He needed a physical outlet for the anger and frustration that he couldn't seem to override. And if this worked then maybe something constructive would come out of the whole terrible fight after all.

~xXx~

Keats carefully placed the lid on the box and gave his wall one last look. All the photos. All the faces. All the people who sought to make his life a misery. But this was it, the night he had been waiting for. This was the night that _everything_ would change. His revenge was coming down to a very basic level. A very _human_ level. He would destroy them in a more literal sense than he'd ever thought of before.

He stared at the clock on the wall. It was almost time to leave. He closed his eyes and breathed out until his lungs were empty and he needed a deep breath to refill them. The darkness had completely taken him over and where any small trace of humanity remained now there was only darkness and malevolent intent.

"_Tonight_," he whispered, "_is the night."_

~xXx~

Robin felt like a bloody idiot as he followed Jake down the corridor towards the staff break room. He couldn't believe that he'd given into the urge to release violence toward Simon. Yes, Simon had not only overstepped the mark, he'd left the mark so far behind that it couldn't be seen with a telescope. Yes, defending Kim was his top priority. Yes, he'd been sinking beers like they were lemonade in the middle of a heat wave. But none of those things excused what he had done, especially not to Simon.

"The first aid kit in here has the TCP," Jake told him.

Robin screwed up his face.

"I fucking hate the smell of TCP," he said.

"Infected wounds smell worse," Jake told him.

That shut Robin up. He couldn't really respond to that.

He felt a bit like a schoolboy sent to the nurse's office for scrazing his knee playing football at lunchtime. His lip was stinging like hell and his cheek throbbed with the gouge marks of Simon's fingernails. His ribs were hurting fairly badly too. In the heat of the moment and full of alcohol he hadn't really felt the pain but now that he was cooling down and sobering up it was starting to make itself known.

Just as they arrived at the door of the break room the lights flickered and died.

"Oh, what the…?!" Robin mumbled.

Jake looked all around.

"Power cut?" he frowned. There was a whirr and a click as the back-up Generator kicked in and the dim emergency lighting came on. "Oh great," he sighed, "this is really going to help me see what I'm doing."

"You don't have to –" Robin began but Jake shook his head and opened the door.

"You need to be cleaned up," he said, adding a '_sir'_ afterwards so as not to sound bossy.

Robin waked slowly into the CID restroom and peered around, hands in his pockets. It wasn't much to write home about which was probably why it was rarely if ever used. A few brown, padded chairs, a kettle so full of limescale there was barely room for enough water to make one cup of coffee and a grimy coffee table with a few car magazines and a dirty ashtray were about the limit of the décor.

"_Cosy_," he said sarcastically.

Jake pointed Robin to the least grotty chair and went for the first-aid kit on the wall.

"Sit down, Sir," he said, "I won't be long."

Robin sank down rubbing his sore ribs as he did so. He thought he might be sobering up but the room started to spin at double-time so he presumed he was wrong. Closing his eyes, he leaned back for a moment and waited for things to stop twirling around him.

"I feel like an absolute arse," he groaned.

Jake gathered together everything he needed from the first aid kit and set them out on the table before sitting down beside him.

"Everyone gets wound up sometimes," he said awkwardly. It suddenly struck him that they were alone in a quiet room with what could be mistaken for romantic lighting and after their earlier conversation he'd entered the point of self-loathing for the severity of the crush he'd developed on Robin.

"Not usually this badly," Robin sighed, "It's not like me, honestly." He looked at Jake, "I don't want you to think I talk with my fists."

"I don't think that," Jake promised him. He opened the bottle of TCP and poured a little onto some cotton wool, mildly amused by the disgusted look on Robin's face as the smell caught his nostrils. "Sorry about the smell."

"What must you think of me?" Robin said, knowing he was more disappointed in himself than anyone else could ever be.

"Sir, it's _fine_, honestly," Jake held up the laced cotton wool, "Sorry, this might sting."

He began to dab at the fingernail tracks on the side of Robin's face causing him to flinch and draw in his breath quickly. He felt stupid and ashamed for making such a fuss and used all his resolve to face the rest of the cleaning of his wounds stoically. He closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see the expression on Jake's face.

"Me and Simon," he began awkwardly, "I… we were together for a really long time and it's proving difficult working out where we stand with each other now that we're _not_." He flinched as the TCP met with a particularly nasty bit, "we need to find a way to deal with that."

"It's none of my business," Jake said awkwardly.

Robin opened his eyes.

"I hate violence," he admitted, "I'm so angry with myself."

"Everyone does things they're not proud of," said Jake as he tilted his head slightly to see Robin's wounds a little better, "especially after a few drinks."

Robin grunted and gave a tiny nod.

"I don't feel all that great," he admitted, "I don't think beer agrees with me." He paused. "Neither does Simon."

That raised a smile from Jake which made Robin smile back. It brought Jake's attention to exactly how close to Robin he was sitting as he treated his wounds and he felt extremely self-conscious suddenly. Shuffling backwards an inch or two he coughed a little and put his cotton wool to one side, going for a fresh piece.

"Soon be finished here," he said, "and I'm sure you'll get the all-clear to go home soon, not much going to happen now."

"Bombs in the ballot boxes?" Robin suggested as the cotton wool loomed at him.

"Hold still, Sir," Jake said, "I need to see to that lip."

"You don't have to keep calling me Sir," Robin told him.

Jake felt his cheeks reddening and hoped profusely that the dim emergency lighting dulled their colour. He _knew_ that. It was just something he did. He had a real thing about authority. He couldn't help it. Marci often pulled his leg about having a boner for authority. He was in serious danger of that becoming literal. He cleared his throat and tried to focus on cleaning Robin up.

"So," he searched desperately for a topic; one that didn't involve Robin's dark, brooding looks or toned physique or edgy characteristics. It took Jake a full ten seconds after his '_so'_ before he could think of a way to follow it up. "So who did you vote for, sir?" Not the most original question in the world but at least it avoided anything uncomfortable

"I didn't get the chance in the end," Robin told him, "we were busy with the dogs right up to the end. And anyway, sort of pointless when you already know the result."

He flinched as the words escaped. He had been doing so well with not making time-travel faux-pas but the alcohol had loosened his lips somewhat.

"How do you know that then, sir?" Jake asked.

Robin gave a nervous laugh.

"Psychic," he mumbled. He gave a slight smile. "Well… foregone conclusion really, isn't it? Going to be labour." He flinched as the TCP made contact with his stinging lip. "_Ouch."_

"Sorry," Jake said softly, dabbing carefully at the blood and cleaning it away. One, two, three times he pressed against Robin's lip with the pad in his fingers before he looked up and caught his eye. He knew his cheeks were going a darker shade of red. He looked back down to the area he was cleaning but that only made him blush harder because the sight of Robin's lips sent a warm buzz through his body and it started to settle somewhere that was going to make the situation a _hell_ of a lot more uncomfortable than it already was so he moved back a little, noting that Robin's lip was much cleaner, and blinked a few times to try to break his fixed gaze away from Robin, who hiccupped loudly.

"Sorry," he said in embarrassment, _"fucking beer."_

At least that was enough to break the strange moment that Jake felt sure was building. He shook himself physically and cleared his throat.

"Just going to dress these scratches," he said as he reached out and gently touched them which made Robin draw back and take in a sharp breath. "Sorry," Jake apologised quickly, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did that… I _knew_ that was going to hurt…"

"It's alright, it's alright," Robin dismissed.

"Sorry," Jake said again.

Robin bit his lip cautiously.

"Is it really bad?" he asked.

Jake took a closer look at the scratches.

"Might have to amputate," he said. The joke broke a little of the atmosphere and they both laughed gently. "Nah, it'll be fine," Jake told him, "one of them's fairly deep but I don't think they'll scar your pretty face."

_Shit_, where the _fuck_ did _that_ come from? Jake cringed and desperately wanted to invent a time machine so he could go back and erase that comment from history. This was another example of why he was very, _very_ bad at having feelings for another human being: even when he had them – which was rare enough – he managed to execute the least smooth moves in the universe. He felt thankful that Robin seemed not to have heard. Either that or he'd taken it as a throwaway comment that meant nothing. He busied himself finding a dressing and applied it as gently as he could.

"I can't do anything for your lip, sorry," he apologised.

"Not like it's seen a lot of action recently anyway," Robin blurted before he realised how that sounded. He closed his eyes for a moment and cursed himself for putting away so many units. As he hiccupped again his bruised ribs throbbed and he involuntarily clutched them for a second.

"You OK?" Jake asked and Robin felt a little silly.

"Sorry," he said awkwardly, "Simon let his fist loose on my ribs."

"Let me look," said Jake.

Robin shook his head.

"I'm fine. _Really,"_ he said but Jake motioned for him to untuck his shirt.

"As the resident first-aider it's my duty," he insisted, "let me see."

Robin closed his eyes for a second, wishing he'd never reacted to the pain. He'd already displayed his chest enough for one day. But nevertheless he pulled his shirt from his trousers and began to unbutton it. He still hated his body being on display, knowing of the scars that lay across his torso despite the artwork that covered them but the alcohol had numbed his inhibitions enough that he didn't really think about it. His poor co-ordination made the buttons a struggle but finally they were undone and his shirt opened; his chest bared to Jake who closed his eyes momentarily, willing his body not to do anything stupid.

Despite the alcohol convincing him to show his bruises to Jake Robin still felt nervous and vulnerable with his body on view and tried to think of a topic to cover up his fears.

"So what made you decide to do the first aid training?"

_Shit, most boring question ever, _Robin felt like a prat. Out of everything he could have asked he found the single dumbest question in the book. Jake seemed not to notice though.

"I've always been interested in health," he said "I did think about going into a medical career for a time."

"You did?" Robin looked at him in surprise, "me too."

"You're _joking?"_

"No, seriously," Robin nodded, "I was fine until we started practicing injections. I was OK when I was trying it on an orange. But when we got near real live people.." he shuddered, "turned out I was deathly afraid of needles."

Jake laughed slightly.

"I don't believe that," he said gently.

"No, seriously, I couldn't do it," Robin smiled.

"You _can't_ be afraid of needles," Jake said quietly, "if you were you wouldn't have all of these amazing tattoos, would you?" he asked as he reached out and skimmed his fingers across the ink.

"It's a different kind of -" Robin began but the instant Jake's fingers made contact with his skin he stopped talking, rendered speechless by the strange feeling that travelled through his body at the touch of Jake's hand against him. He swallowed nervously as he tried to deny the way it made him feel. He wasn't used to that kind of sensation, not now. Not any more. Not since he'd been torn away from his life with Kim. It scared him to feel excitement from someone else's touch and he tried to move away but his eyes caught Jake's and he saw the same kind of nervousness reflected in his stare. He watched as Jake swallowed, his expression stricken like a rabbit in headlights. He was so inept at matters of a romantic persuasion that the way he found himself feeling terrified him.

Robin opened his mouth slightly, even though he had no idea what to say. _Say something. Anything. Break the silence._

"Uh -" that was as far as he got.

_For fuck's sake, Robin, just say something. Finish your sentence. What was it? Something about tattoos._

But all he could think was how long it had been since anyone had touched him, how long it had been since he felt the blood rushing through his veins, his heart pumping so hard, his head spinning. He knew he'd had too much to drink and there was enough beer sloshing in his guts to keep the regulars of the Railway Arms quenched for a fortnight. This was not a good idea. This was a really, _really_ bad idea.

Jake was struck with the realisation that he'd left his hand pressed to Robin's chest for an extraordinary length of time. Shit, what the _hell_ was he going to think? _Move it! Just move your bloody hand!_

Unfortunately as his hand finally listened to him it did the one thing that he had been trying so hard not to do. He flattened his palm against Robin's chest and swept it smoothly across his inked skin. Jake couldn't; catch his breath. He was choked, struck by the moment, and all at once he felt himself starting to stir and stiffen down below. Silently he begged his over-eager appendage to knock it off, to calm down and not to draw attention to itself while simultaneously begging for divine intervention to stop Robin from looking down. Unfortunately he forgot to beg his _own_ eyes not to drop their gaze downward and the instant he glanced down to see whether it was noticeable Robin's curiosity made his own line of sight follow Jake's.

_Oh shit –_

Instantly Jake pulled his hand away from Robin, leaving a strange warmth from the memory of his touch as he jumped to his feet, his face the colour of a particularly vibrant beetroot.

"_Sir, I'm sorry,"_ his voice shook as he spoke, blurting out his apology, "I'm sorry. I'll go."

A strange sense of panic rose inside of Robin. He hadn't been expecting it, Not that he'd been expecting _any_ of the things that had happened in the last ten minutes, but this one really caught him by surprise. Jake's touch… something in his eyes… something in the way he spoke –

Suddenly Jake wasn't the only one with a problem in his lower quarters. The difference was that Robin didn't care about that. He was far more worried about the fact that the first thing that had made him feel alive in death was about to walk out of the door and something inside of him wasn't going to let him happen.

_"Jake, wait,"_ his voice trembled as he scrambled to his feet and reached out. He managed to grasp the end of Jake's sleeve which was enough to hold him back. Jake turned around slowly, his face still hot and his problem still obvious. He looked at Robin with shame and worry in his eyes, expecting the absolute worst but one single word came from Robin's lips. _"Stay."_

Jake froze on the spot, trying to work out why Robin had said it. _It was a joke. It was a mistake. It was the drink talking._ It was _anything_ but the truth, it _had_ to be because Jake didn't _do_ romance, and even when he tried it never went his way. But as he looked Robin in the eye he saw something there that he wasn't expecting.

It looked an awful lot like Robin meant it.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: This is ALL THE FAULT OF CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS. "Don't let me ship this!" I said. "BUT BUT ROBIN AND JAKE OTP" was more or less the reply… with explicit evidence to prove a point in one case *glares* Thanks a lot! Like I need more ships! Like I more encouragement to ship!**_

_**So you may have noticed I like echoes and repeated themes. This chapter deliberately mimicks/echoes two other chapters going way back in my series of fics. Can you guess which ones?**_


	30. Chapter 29: Leap of Faith

_**A/N: The problem with anon reviews is that it can be difficult to work out if they are flames or messages that were meant to be funny but come across wrongly online. The one I got this morning felt like it belonged in the former category. I'd like to believe that it's a kid messing around, but I think it is probably someone old enough to know better.**_

_**I would like to reiterate that there is very little that happens in my fics without good reason. Sex is never gratuitous. Purpose and reason are revealed when the time is right. Making a comment about characters 'getting laid' in a fic is one thing, making comments about the author is not acceptable.**_

_**Assuming that an author is the same as the fiction that they write is very silly. If they were then these would be autobiographies instead of fanfics.**_

_**I would also like to point out that Simon wants to know where all his sex is since allegedly everyone is getting laid.**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 29**

"…_but whatever you do,"_ she wrote, the last few lines smudged by her tears, _"please understand that this isn't suicide. This is a way back to a place I left a long time ago to help the people that mean the world to me. And when they're old enough to understand I need you to explain this to my boys. I want them to know that I love them and I always will. Please make yourself known to them, Julian. You need some family. You deserve it." _She gulped back a sob that was trying to burst forth and took a deep breath as she signed off the letter; _"I love you, my brother. Miss you always, Kim xxx"_

She closed the notebook and slowly got to her feet. She felt weak and she shook as she moved. She really needed alcohol but she had none and she knew better than to seek any while she prepared for this. Never before had a clear head been so incredibly important.

By the light of the candle she stood in front of the mirror and let the bed quilt drop to the floor. It was the first time that she had confronted her body in many months. In fact, ever since her shooting had refused to look at herself. The last thing she needed were more reminders of everything she had been through and all that she had lost.

She was shocked by what she saw; her limbs painfully thin, her skin practically hanging from the bone, ribs that showed through her flesh, her whole body looked like it was withering away. She didn't know what that surprised her, She had barely consumed anything but scotch for months. Her eyes focused on her stomach and the two bullet wounds that she had refused to even look at before. It had hurt enough to feel them with her fingers when she scrubbed herself on the bath or the shower. She had never wanted to look at them. Her stomach felt like a car crash, between the bullet wounds, the scar from her hystectomy and the loose skin from the pregnancy that ended so callously by Layton's shots. She couldn't bear to see it. All of her pain and her trauma was laid out visually in that one place.

She quickly pulled on her knickers and her socks, then yanked on her trousers, steadying herself as her head began to swim. She felt dizzy again, as though she was about to pass out. She forced herself to stay upright and forced herself to say awake and alert. She had the most important night of her life ahead; planning her death.

As she fastened her trousers her scars were hidden once again. _Good_, that was one thing out of the way. Hiding them made her feel stronger. She grabbed her shirt and slipped her arms into the cool cotton sleeves, straightened the collar and began to fasten it she stopped for a moment, her heart skipping a beat to remind her whose shirt it actually was.

_Rob…_

She felt tears returning to her eyes as she stared at herself in the mirror. The black shirt that she had loved him in suited her just as well or so he had told her, After she'd returned to work she'd taken to wearing his shirts more often than not, So they were big, who cared? They hid a multitude of sins, No one could see how thin she had become beneath that outer layer.

As her fingers slowly rose up the front of the material, fastening each and every one, she felt herself tremble as one thought came to her mind.

_I am going to see him again._

_That's is I'm not already too late._

She swallowed as that final thought went through her mind and the final button found itself fastened. She couldn't allow herself to think like that. She needed to focus. Everything she had seen suggested it wasn't too late. They had been begging with her, _pleading_ with her. If it was too late then surely she'd be shown the aftermath instead?

_I'll see her too._

Kim closed her eyes tightly as she tried to fight the images of Alex at Keats's mercy that played through her mind, she just had to believe she would get there in time. She couldn't doubt that for a second. There was no room for second guessing herself.

She was going to make it. There were no two ways about it.

She sat on the edge of the bed and, one at a time, she pulled on her hefty, clunky boots and zipped them up. She silently promised them that they would find a dinner date with Keats's testicles at the first available opportunity, and then she got to her feet.

"_I'm ready,"_ she whispered, only half convinced of that. How could she be ready? She was leaving to face her own death – was there truly a way to be ready for that?

Quite suddenly a breeze passed by her, sending a shiver down her spine and the flame of the candle danced around before it died right in front of her. The room grew ever darker and left her with only her mobile phone to spread light around her. She pressed the button to light up the display and used it to guide her to her jacket and the notebook. She carefully tore out the pages which she had to do in three steps because there were so many of them. Gathering them together, she folded them in half and slipped into her jacket pocket, then she took a deep breath and turned her attention to her phone. She called up her contacts, selected a number, dialled and waited.

The phone rang and rang until voicemail answered. Kim breathed a sigh of relief. That was what she wanted. It was easier to say what she had to say to a machine than to a real life person. A real life person could detect subtle undertones and question her. A machine simply had to accept the lie it was given.

"Hello, Molly," she tried as hard as she could to keep her voice level. Clearing her throat she closed her eyes and desperately fought another flood of tears, "It's me. It's Kim. Listen, I-I'm sorry I couldn't hear you properly when you rang earlier. I was just calling to say…" to say _what_ exactly? Kim froze for a split second before she finished, "to say that I won't be able to answer if you try calling again later. Or tomorrow." She flinched as the reality of what she was doing truly hit her. _Fuck…_ "but I don't want you to worry, because I am fine. I am fine, and everything will be fine. I'm working up in Manchester…." One tear rolled down her cheek. "Give that baby sister of yours a huge hug and a bit kiss from me, Molls, please?" it was too hard to carry on now. That was it. She needed to hang up. She needed to go. _"Goodbye,"_ she whispered and she cut the call with a solitary beep.

She choked back the tears as she tucked her phone in her pocket and took one last look around the room. She had everything that she needed – _letter, phone, clunky boots_ – the only thing she didn't have was a plan. How the fuck was she going to _do_ this? Take a bunch of pills? There was no way of knowing how long that would take to work, or even if it _would_. The thought of taking a knife to her wrist was one she couldn't stand to imagine. It made her want to vomit to event think of it. She thought about making a noose but she had no idea how and she just knew she would end up doing it wrong, falling on the floor and bruising her arse.

She hung her head as the pressure started to get to her. She felt as though she was on a countdown but she couldn't even push herself to start. Her mind raced – what the _hell_ was she supposed to _do? _How was this supposed to happen? There had to be a way to do it; one she couldn't fuck up, one that would get her there and leave her - in no uncertain terms - in the middle of Keats's domain.

Something struck her in that instant.

"_Sam bloody Tyler,"_ she whispered.

Her eyes closed tightly as she recalled the day that she and Robin had accompanied Alex to Manchester on the search for Gene's identity. Alex had led them to Stopford House before politely informing them that they were standing right on Sam Tyler's splat zone. And now, in all the places, on all of the days, she has been there again.

She'd thought that meeting Julian had been fate, and maybe it was. But this was a little too much to be a coincidence too.

"_Leap of faith,"_ she whispered to herself as a strange sound caught her attention. She thought she was imagining it at first. It seemed impossible. But there it was – _tick, tock, tick, tock_ – there had to be a clock in the room, surely, because it couldn't be –

She pulled her phone from her pocket and let the screen light up, then shone it across a nearby surface. She scooped up her watch from the bedside table. The second hand was going round.

"What the _fuck?"_ she whispered It was dead… it had been dead earlier, absolutely still and silent, and now it was _going?_ What the fuck?

Before she could dwell on that the sound of the TV switching itself on made her jump and gasp in fright before the very same song she'd heard earlier came back to haunt her for a second time around.

"_Don't fear the Reaper,"_ she whispered, doing more than simply saying the name of the song. She was giving herself a pep talk too. Suddenly the lyrics had never been more fitting.

_#...Love of two is one_

_Here but now they're gone_

_Came the last night of sadness_

_And it was clear she couldn't go on_

_Then the door was open and the wind appeared_

_The candles blew then disappeared_

_The curtains flew then he appeared...saying don't be afraid_

_Come on baby...and she had no fear_

_And she ran to him...then they started to fly_

_They looked backward and said goodbye...she had become like they are_

_She had taken his hand...she had become like they are_

_Come on baby...don't fear the reaper…#_

"_She had become like they are," _she echoed the line and closed her eyes tightly. That was what she had to do. That was _all_ she could do. She needed to be _like_ them to _save_ them and there was simply no other way.

At that moment she knew in her heart that she was doing the right thing, no matter how deeply it scared her or how daunted she was by the prospect of the job she had ahead of her when she made it over. This was what she had to do. Only _she_ could save them. And if taking her life was the way to do it then so be it.

_Taking her life._ That felt like a lie. She hadn't been 'alive' for the longest time. Her still and silent watch had pretty much told her that. Not that it was still and silent any longer. Quickly she fastened it around her wrist then took a deep breath, put her phone in her pocket and ran for the door.

It was time to become like they were.

It was time to breathe her last.

As she moved at speed through the corridor and fled down the darkened staircase she realised something; something that surprised her. For the first time since the day of her shooting she actually felt alive. Once outside in the street she could catch the scent of food in the air, she could hear the sound of voices as people wandered past, she could feel a chill wind against her cheek. Her senses returned as she began to move towards her target.

Death was calling.

Life was about to begin.


	31. Chapter 30: Brave New World

**Chapter 30**

Alex watched Gene emerge from his office looking slightly smug. A moment later Simon appeared looking deep in thought. He took a seat on a desk, grabbing a beer and stared at the TV set as more results came through.

"He seems calmer," Alex commented, fairly impressed.

"Don't think he's going to be scrapping with any more superheroes for a while," Gene said, finding the glass he'd left behind when the fight had broken out. He sank down beside Alex as she looked at him curiously,

"Why? What did you say to him?" she asked suspiciously.

"You make it sound like there was a meeting of some secret society taking place behind yer back!" Gene said, somewhat insulted, he relaxed as she did and shook his head, "Just gave Shoebury a few anger management tips, that's all."

He was aware of the laugh that Alex tried desperately to muffle.

_"You?"_

Gene bristled.

"Something funny, Bols?" he challenged.

"No, no," Alex smirked, "only that your anger management usually involves _getting_ angry and managing to throw people against filing cabinets."

"Hoping Simon's not going to follow down that path," Gene told her. She waited patiently for more information as Gene took a swig of a surprisingly tasty wine and swallowed it down. "Think he's got some potential there. Just needs to work on his technique and his stamina."

"You _are_ going to teach him how to throw people against filing cabinets," Alex's spirits sank, "_aren't_ you? Oh _god_, Gene, one of you is enough, you _know_ we've already exceeded our budget for replacement office furniture for the next five years…"

"Sending the prat to Batman's gym," Gene explained, "he needs a punch bag that's not going to hit him back to practice on."

"You really see Simon doing that?" Alex asked incredulously.

Gene gave a shrug as he let his wine swill around in his glass.

"Stranger things have happened," he said, "like Eddie getting a date."

Their eyes moved to the younger members of the team at one side of the room where Eddie and Marci were talking and laughing like there had never been any antagonism between the two of them in the first place.

"I think it was the _almost being blown up_ that did it" Alex commented, "she suddenly saw his potential."

"Yeah, his potential to decorate all four walls of the bloody bogs in one go," Gene commented.

_"Gene!"_ cried Alex, "your sense of common taste is getting worse."

"Not as bad as Marci's by the look of it," Gene commented as Marci smiled a little coyly at Eddie and handed him another drink while he made some sort of comment about her hair, indicating it and causing her to ruffle it involuntarily.

"Oh, _stop_ it, it's nice to see something nice happening to Eddie," Alex told him, "the last time that man smiled was when they finally prised the last of the staples out of his ear," she watched as Shaz lifted up a telephone and began to look concerned as she spoke to someone, then left the office at speed, mumbling something briefly to Eddie and Marci as she went. "That's strange."

"Eddie standing next to Marci for more than an hour without getting a slap?"

"_Shaz_," said Alex, indicating with her glass, "she seemed to leave in a bit of a hurry."

"Pizza probably arrived," Gene commented, he listed his glass. "It was probably the sight of Eddie that reminded her."

Alex rolled her eyes and sighed.

"The limit of your decency knows no bounds," she said.

Gene stared at the results on the television where the colour red was making its presence felt.

"So come on then, Bols," he began, "level with me here."

Alex looked at him curiously.

"About what exactly?"

"Big Grin Blair," said Gene, "who's really running the country, him or his winning smile?"

"Well you'll never see him without it," Alex commented, raising her glass. She waited for Gene to do the same. "Welcome to the heady, hazy, early days of new labour," she said.

"_New bollocks for old bollocks_, more like," Gene raised his eyebrow.

As they clinked glasses Alex gave a contented sigh. For the first time since she returned to the world she felt happy, settled and very much at home. She looked around the office the team, old and new. A good result, a good day and a good bottle of wine.

Life didn't get much better than that.

~xXx~

Jake felt his pulse rocket as he stared at Robin whose eyes were wide with honesty. The last thing that he'd been expecting was to hear that word; the single word that made the biggest difference to the feelings that were surging through him. He swallowed nervously, his mouth dry and his palms sweating as he tried to keep calm. He knew that his _situation_ was on full display and getting worse the longer he stared at Robin. There was nothing he could do about that though.

"Sir," he whispered, "I-it's late, and we're tired and you've had a lot to drink… we _both_ have…"

"That's got nothing to do with it," Robin whispered, hoping Jake would believe him. He could see Jake waiting for him to go on but didn't know want to say. _Fuck_, why wasn't he better at this? Why wasn't _one_ of them better at this? It didn't even have to be _him._ They were both bloody socially awkward and had no idea what to do when it came to receiving romantic attention. Robin wasn't married to his job the same way that Jake was but he certainly lacked confidence in relationships. His entire romantic background consisted of Simon and Kim. He'd never had any other relationships, not even any dates. Even Eddie '_You're Welcome'_ Ashworth had been on more dates than Robin.

And yet suddenly he found himself in the position of being the more worldly-wise of the two of them. It wasn't a role that sat comfortably with him and he felt out of his depth.

"I'd better just go," Jake said quietly as he turned around but sight of him leaving made Robin's stomach drop.

"_Jake_," he cried before he could stop himself. Jake's anxious eyes turned back towards him and Robin found the room spinning. The alcohol might not have helped but he knew it wasn't wholly responsible. "Please don't go" he whispered.

"I don't want to make a mistake," Jake whispered anxiously, "I don't want to say something I'm going to regret."

"Don't regret it, just say it," Robin urged him. He watched Jake looking own and swallowed. "_Please_, Jake."

Jake's eyes slowly rose back to meet Robin's again. He felt himself shaking as he stood there, almost forgetting for a moment the situation down below. He looked at Robin in confusion.

"Your fiancée," he whispered and felt his heart sink as Robin looked downward, _Shit_. He should have kept his mouth shut. But he'd already started to ask now. "Everything you said earlier. You don't know if you'll be back with her and you're not ready to be with anyone else."

"I know what I said, Robin felt butterflies flapping around inside his stomach. _Shit,_ he wasn't used to this. "I know. I _did_ say that." He swallowed, "but sometimes…" he choked on his words. He was no bloody good at this, "sometimes it's easy to say something… because you're in the _habit_ of saying it," he swallowed. He was so nervous that the beer was threatening to make a reappearance, "and I've been saying the same thing to Simon for so long, over and over…" he closed his eyes, "I guess… I guess it was a habit to say the same thing to you." He watched Jake's expression as it cycled through emotions; hope, anxiety, need, fear – "even though I wasn't…" he paused as he took in a deep breath, "Even though I wasn't feeling the same way… that I felt about the idea of being with _Simon_ again."

Jake shuffled uncomfortably on the spot.

"Don't say anything you're going to regret in the morning," he begged.

"I won't," Robin whispered.

Jake tried to lick his lips as they grew dry very suddenly but it didn't seem to make a difference.

"Then," he whispered, "what _do_ you mean?"

Robin swallowed back his nerves.

"There's something," he whispered, "about you. " He didn't know what it was. He just knew something was there. He moved very slowly towards Jake, as worried about being the one to make the move as he was worried about scaring Jake away.

"And," Jake began quietly, "your fiancée?"

Robin couldn't get into the complexities of that right there and then. It wasn't something he could explain to Jake. After all there were few couples who'd ever had to have a serious talk about the rules they should follow if one or the other of them were stuck on the other side of the line. Between Kim's night with Alex and Robin breaking Simon's heart, in the short time Robin was back in the real world they had talked at length. There were _so_ many complications, _so_ many things to take into consideration, it has taken hours and hours of honest and open discussion that would have had Simon screaming his head off at the pair of them.

Robin had enough trouble understanding their self-imposed rules and decisions for himself. He wasn't going to try explaining them to someone who didn't even know about the way of the world. But he knew that he wasn't a robot. Sometimes he just wanted warmth, he just wanted someone to hold him. He just wanted to feel alive. It had been four months since he last felt that.

"I'm still human," he whispered, terrified that anything he said was never going to be enough or was going to scare Jake away, but he didn't seem to be running. Very slowly Robin reached forward and ran his finger around Jake's top button. This was unfamiliar territory to him; taking charge, taking the lead. He carefully popped the button open, keeping his eyes fixed on Jake the whole time. "I-I don't want to do anything unless you're sure you want to," he whispered.

"I want to," Jake's voice was impossibly quiet and nervous as he felt Robin's fingers moving down to the next button. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. Was he supposed to just be standing there like that? He worried that he wasn't doing enough… wasn't pulling his weight… he just didn't know what he was _supposed_ to do. Robin's shirt was already open and the trousers felt like a step too far so undressing duties were not on the cards just yet. As Robin's hand moved downward, slowly unfastening one button at a time, their eye contact didn't waiver, not for a moment. Both were as nervous as one another. The slightly chilly air sent a shiver through Jake as his shirt lay open and he felt Robin's hand pull him slowly forward. For a second he couldn't breathe. The intense moment stole the breath from his chest as he stared into Robin's eyes. They seemed deeper and darker than ever before. His lips were hungry to feel Robin's against them, he wanted that so much, but before he could give in there was something he needed to say first.

"Sir," he whispered.

"Please don't call me that now," Robin said awkwardly.

"_Robin_," Jake said, uncomfortable at the use of his name, "I… I have something… that I need to tell you."

He seemed anxious and scared which worried Robin. Had he pushed him too far, too fast?

"Go on?" he said quietly.

Jake swallowed, his nerves flowing round his veins as he began,

"Thing is, Sir… _Robin_," he said pointedly, "it's about me. I know this might sound –"

"_Sir?"_ A sudden knock at the door not only broke the moment but caused a panic to rise in both men. Robin drew back and quickly slammed himself against the door, shirt still open and hanging from his shoulders, desperate to keep the unexpected guest from entering.

"_Yes_?" he said loudly, his heart pounding so hard he thought that the vibrations could be heard through the door.

"_Sir,"_ he realised this time that it was Shaz who'd spoken, "there's a problem." The door handle rattled as she attempted to let herself in and Robin pressed himself harder against the cold wood.

"You can't come in right now!" he panicked, looking at Jake whose eyes were open in fear of getting caught, "The, uh," he cleared his throat, "there's a chair against the door… I…. needed medical attention," he cringed, the two excuses didn't actually explain one anther but Shaz had more important things on her mind than questioning him about the purpose of the blocked doorway.

"_Sir, you have to come to the canine unit right away,"_ She urged him, _"the dogs are going crazy, I can't handle them on my own!"_

Robin frowned and glanced at Jake who gave a nervous shrug.

"Well what's happened?" Robin called trough the closed door, "they should be fine, locked up until morning

"_They're not locked away,"_ Shaz explained.

"What?"

_Someone's let one out."_

Robin's brow creased with extreme confusion.

"_What?"_

"_You need to come and see for yourself, Sir, they've all gone wild!"_ Shaz urged him.

Even as he began to protest he could hear barking in the distance. _Shit_, if they could be heard from all the way up in CID then something _had_ to be wrong. He breathed out slowly as he felt himself begin to soften. The moment had passed. He closed his eyes and groaned, his hands already reaching for his buttons to fumble them closed.

"Go back down, I'll meet you at the kennels in one minute," told her, straightening himself up as fast as he could. His eyes turned to Jake who looked crestfallen and devastated. _Shit_. Robin didn't want that to be the end of it. He really didn't. How much trouble could there actually be in the canine division anyway? One dog on the loose… grab it, pack it away, he'd be back in five minutes, tops. "_Wait there"_ he told Jake as he quickly tucked the bottom of his shirt into the top of his trousers and slipped from the room.

A slightly dishevelled Jake watched him leave, his emotions doing laps around his body. His heart was racing and his earlier _problem_ wasn't going anywhere. As he shut the door and leaned against it just as Robin had a few minutes ago he could only hope that Robin wouldn't be _going anywhere_ for too long either.

~xXx~

Keats returned to the car and slammed the door behind him. His heart was thumping out a terrifyingly fast beat and his hands were shaking. He stared at them as though he could still feel the box within them.

"_It's over, it's over, it's over,"_ he chanted as though to convince himself of that fact. His hands were burning. Why were they burning? There was nothing corrosive, and nothing hot. He stared at them again, turned them over and over They were burning with the energy, the darkness of what he had done. They throbbed and itched. They stung and twitched. He rubbed then hard against his trousers and he started to rock back and forth.

_Stop this, Jim, get yourself under control._

He told himself crossly to fight it. It was being in close proximity to all that energy in one go again. He'd been doing very well at keeping it under control and using it instead of letting it overtake him, but he hadn't been that close to them all in a long time.

They must _all_ have been in there – Gene, Alex, Simon, Robin –

He closed his eyes as something seemed to flip around inside of him. It was the strangest sensation. Coldness filled his gut like he'd been guzzling ice cream. It was a sensation that he wasn't used to. It felt like dread.

_Dread_? What was there _to_ dread? The plan was in progress, the box in place, now he only had to stand back, watch, wait and take whatever extra opportunities came along.

But something didn't feel right. There was a strange energy in the air and this time it wasn't coming from Gene and co. It was something that he couldn't explain.

And, quite frankly, from the feel of it he hoped held never have to.

He shrugged it away. _Ignore it. Concentrate, Focus._

The plan of a lifetime was coming to fruition.

"_This is my night,"_ he hissed.

No one was going to take that away from him.

**~xXx~**

_**A/N: Thank you for clearing up the anon review; without a name the message sounded very negative, I appreciate having a name to the words.**_

_**There is one chapter (a long one) and an epilogue to come; the last chapter will either be up tonight or tomorrow morning and the epilogue the following day. Content Warning: Beard Model Evan White…**_


	32. Chapter 31: The Final Countdown

**A/N: Apologies for the length of this chapter. And. Apologies… for this chapter**

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 31**

Kim pulled the jacket around her as she walked numbly through the evening air. It wasn't even that cold but she was shivering. It was either through the need for a drink or the fear and anticipation of what was ahead for her. All around her there were people; people heading home after a late stint at work, people heading out for the night, people on their way to catch a bus or a train, people laughing, people crying, people talking. All shades of humanity. And she passed through them, walked amongst them as though she was just another member of the public. To look at her you wouldn't know any different. No one could look inside her head and know what was about to occur. That was a strange and chilling thought.

She felt her nerves beginning to rise as she entered Canal Street and walked shakily to the Taurus Bar. She worried for a moment that someone might be about to yell that she was the one who'd managed to spill the contents of her alcohol-filled guts there just a few hours earlier but no one seemed to remember her. _Thank god for that,_ she thought to herself.

The bar was dark and closed up; the sign still standing outside to apologise for its current state. A feeling of relief washed over her. The last thing she wanted to do was to run into Julian in person. She didn't think that she could handle that. If she saw him again then it would make her decision so much harder to go through with. Besides, he would take one look at her expression and know that something was wrong. That wasn't a risk she was going to take. It all had to go smoothly. She had to focus.

She swallowed as she took the bundle of paper from her pocket. She wished that she had an envelope for it but was going to have to trust that the bundle would stay together. She knelt down and pushed it through the letterbox. The moment it fell out of her reach she felt a strange stirring inside. That was it. The letter was out of her grasp, which meant that the truth had gone from her control.

For the first time, she had imparted the truth to somebody else. Someone who didn't _know_. Someone who had never been to Gene's world, and never would.

That was a very strange feeling indeed.

She quickly stood upright again and began to move away from the door at speed before she could change her mind and abuse her powers to break in and reclaim the letter. She had to leave a legacy. She needed someone to know. She needed just one person to understand. Otherwise the whole world would be left thinking that Kim Stringer had committed suicide

That wasn't what she was about to do. She was simply going home.

_Home_. When had she started thinking of Gene's world in those terms?

She swallowed as something struck her deep inside. She realised, quite simply, that she had just never stopped.

~xXx~

"They just won't stop _barking!"_ Shaz explained in a flap as Robin hurried toward her, making sure that his shirt was tucked in as he approached.

"How long have they been going at it?" he asked.

"I got the call in CID ten minutes ago," Shaz told him, "the night desk sergeant herd them barking and someone went to check. They called me and I went right down but there's a dog running _around_ in there."

"Which one?" Robin frowned.

"That's the _thing_, I don't know!" cried Shaz, "I tried to enter the room but all the used compounds are full!"

"That doesn't make any sense," frowned Robin.

"All our dogs are accounted for, Sir," Shaz reiterated, "it's like… like someone broke in and _left_ one in there."

"This makes no sense," Robin muttered as he approached the door to the canine unit and peered through the window. As he watched a distinctive dog was running circles around the unit while the six working dogs barked furiously at it. "Jesus Christ!"

"I _warned_ you," Shaz reminded him.

Robin swallowed. She had indeed.

"I just hoped that maybe I wasn't the only one who'd had too much to drink," Robin mumbled. He pressed one hand to his forehead. The alcohol wasn't exactly helping his situation. He wasn't feeling his best for tackling the canine intruder. His head was just starting to develop a niggling throb, his bladder was begging to be emptied and his sore rib wasn't going to make catching the damn dog any easier. "This is reminding me of my lion-taming days," he couldn't help but comment.

~xXx~

With the letter delivered, Kim had nothing left to do but the deed itself.

The moment she realised that was the scariest instant of her life.

She moved through the crowds, the dark intention burning in her mind.

"How do I say goodbye?" she whispered_, "how the hell do I say goodbye… to life? To living?"_ She realised with chills down her spine that Alex had faced the exact same situation just before she embarked on her trip to Manchester in the hope that she would find her way over to Gene's world. Kim's route was more direct. She knew that. But she finally understood how Alex had felt. "Shit," she whispered "I'm really going to do this. Aren't I?"

She stared out over the unfamiliar city. She could feel her racing heart beating out its goodbye. She had no choice. There was only one place left to go.

Her face devoid of emotion, she walked to the bus stop where a bus was arriving and stepped on quickly. She paid her fare, took a seat and pretended that she couldn't hear _Bigger than Us_ blasting over someone else's headphones.

Stopford House edged closer.

Soon, _she_ would be coming closer to the edge.

~xXx~

"How's the eye, Sir?"

Simon squinted at Eddie through his one working eye as the other one throbbed.

"I'm sure it will be fine," he said feeling somewhat embarrassed. He swigged from his beer and gave a very heavy sigh. "Come on, let's hear it/"

"What?" frowned Eddie.

"Whatever nickname or insult you've come up with for me," said Simon, "let's get it over with."

Eddie spread his palms.

"No names, no insults," he said, "just wanted to see how you were,"

Simon regarded him with suspicion but he seemed to be genuine. After a few moments with no wisecracks he said,

"Well, honestly… I'm fine."

"Bammo's running a pool though," Eddie told him and Simon closed his eyes and groaned.

"Should have known there was more to this," he said.

"He's taking bets on a second round," Eddie explained, "I'm backing _you_, sir."

Simon put his hand to his head and wanted the ground to swallow him up.

"Thanks for your support," he said with a little sarcasm. He glanced back at Eddie and noticed there was a look he'd never seen before in his eye. He frowned a little curiously and said, "there's something different about you today." He glanced over at Marci who was happily drinking an alcopop and talking to a couple of people he didn't really know. "Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain young DC you've been pestering for a while, would it?"

It was the first time that Simon had ever seen Eddie looking anything approaching bashful. He looked away for a moment as he grinned.

"Might do," he said.

"I noticed you two seemed to be getting on better today, Simon raised an eyebrow.

"Trying not to blow it this time, Sir," Eddie said cautiously.

"Try not leaving self-portraits around the place this time," Simon suggested and Eddie cringed.

"I'm trying to learn from my mistakes," he said.

Simon couldn't help but grin. It was about time Eddie wore a smile. The man hadn't exactly had an easy time of it since he'd arrived in Gene's world the year before… he'd gone from manically running around with a stapler to thinking everything was a dream to experiencing a harsh dose of reality and reliving the most traumatic event of his life. He'd stumbled from one disaster to another, fruitlessly endeavoured to find a person of the female persuasion who might want to show him some affection and finally had a watch that stopped. Not that _Eddie_ understood the significance of that.

Simon could tell that something about Marci was different. The way Eddie kept on chipping away at her no matter how many times she slapped him. The way that he actually tried to ask her on dates instead of 'wishing her clothes off'. The way he saw Eddie sneaking looks at her at every available opportunity. Now the look on Eddie's face was heart-warming. _Sickly but heart-warming_. It reminded Simon a little that love wasn't always the dark and miserable emotion that he had experienced it becoming.

"You heading on a date tomorrow night?" he asked Eddie and Eddie grinned.

"Got my best lucky underpants at the ready," he boasted.

Simon slapped his forehead.

"_Please_ tell me these are not the same pants that say _'Hi I'm Eddie'_ on them?" he begged.

"No, they weren't very lucky for me," Eddie mumbled, "I've downgraded them."

Simon couldn't help but smile. He looked at Eddie and told him,

"Well whatever pants you wear, lucky or otherwise, have a great night."

"We will," Eddie grinned. His eyes skipped over to the pretty young detective who'd saved his life then thrown him a line to save his social life too. There was definitely something about her. Something special. And this time he wasn't going to mess things up. Marci was for keeps. Of that he was certain.

~xXx~

As she stepped off the bus Kim fought to keep her intentions away from the forefront of her mind. She knew that if she let herself focus on that part, even for a moment, then she might just lose her nerve. She needed to get to her destination first. After that she would address the next step.

Every footstep meant something; every inch that she moved along felt as though it held increased importance. She was seeing things in the real world for the final time. _Cars, Trees, Buildings_. Things that she took for granted. The next time she saw them she would be on a different plain; a different layer of reality, far away from the world that she had spent the last eight years trying to reclaim a place in.

There was a part of her that had never truly felt like she was back. There was always a part of her that felt like it was a million miles away. Sometimes she wondered if she had ever truly left Gene's world. A part of her heart had always remained. Now her soul was to follow it.

"_Stopford House,"_ she whispered as she arrived.

That was the moment that she stopped trying to bury her true intention and began to confront it instead.

It was time to say goodbye.

~xXx~

"Where the _hell_ has that thing _come_ from?!" Robin cried as he peered at the dog, still going crazy.

"Do you want me to get the security camera tapes?" Shaz asked.

"Let's catch the thing first," Robin said, protective clothing swathing most of his body. There was no way of knowing whether the dog was friend or foe, it was certainly going crazy enough. Now it _definitely_ reminded Robin of his lion taming days

He felt slightly green as the beers he wasn't used to made their presence known with his head throbbing and his stomach sloshing. Why had he not just stuck to brandy? Or better yet, water? He groaned and tried to ignore the nausea that emerged with a stray hiccup.

"This night not be the best time to ask you this," he began, "but how would you feel about promotion?

Shaz looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean, Sir?"

Robin eyed the dog warily as he continued.

"The super says they're expanding the department and there's funding to promote one of you to sergeant," he began. He glanced at Shaz and felt green for a different reason. He knew it was stupid to feel jealous, especially since he didn't feel threatened by Alex. It was the fact of Shaz being Kim's first love that made him feel that way, he supposed.

_Your first love is the one you never really get over,_ he thought to himself, _a decade can pass and you still end up naming characters after them when you write your beardfic._

'_Fanfic,'_ Robin told himself sternly, '_I did not write beardfic, that was a social experiment.'_

He just hoped that Kim never accessed his FFnet account after he passed away.

"Are you serious, sir?" there was a sparkle in Shaz's eye. She was trying not to smile in case she had misunderstood but the excitement and her joy on her face made Robin's hesitation fade just a smidgen.

"I'm deadly serious," he said, "Superintendent Fletcher has given me the go-ahead to offer the post to the best candidate. We both know you're worth double the rest of the team by yourself."

Shaz wasn't used to heady praise and looked down, blushing. She smiled broadly, the prospect of promotion warming her inside.

"_Thank_ you, Sir," she said, a little awkwardly, unsure how to react when the news had come so out of the blue. She looked him in the eye and nodded.

"So that's a yes?"

Shaz's smile grew as she thought about her achievement.

"It's a yes," she conformed.

"Good," Robin said with a smile before turning his eyes back to the window, "then here's your first job as second in command of the canine division." He swallowed, _"help me catch that blasted dog!"_

~xXx~

Keats rubbed his hands together as though it were the coldest night of the year. He wasn't cold, far from it. He just wanted a way to stop shaking and it gave him something to focus on. He kept his eye on the building from a distance and carried on the countdown that ran through his head.

It was getting closer. Minute by minute, it was approaching.

"_Come on,"_ he muttered, _"come on…"_

His feet tapped, his head raced and his heart pounded. _So close now_. The moment he'd longed for was almost within his reach.

The sound as his car radio burst into life scared the ever-loving crap out of his shaking, trembling body. His eyes moved to the glowing display as a song he'd never heard before started blasting out and no matter what he tried he couldn't stop it. The radio didn't seem to be listening to the angry bashing of buttons.

_#...And I feel like I'm breaking up, and I wanted to stay_

_Headlights on the hillside, don't take me this way_

_I don't want you to hold me, I don't want you to pray_

_This is bigger than us…#_

"I am _not_ in the mood for…" he started to kick at the radio, "…stupid, nonsense _music!"_ With his final word his shoe cracked the front of the radio and managed to do enough damage to its internal workings to stop the music from playing. It gave a horrific wail like someone dying slowly, sparked a little and finally ceased to be. He scowled at it, straightened his collar and made his face carefully neutral again. "I should think so too," he said. He didn't know what the song was but it sure as hell didn't have Ridgeley's musical skill behind it, that was for certain.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Something still didn't feel right. He started to feel a little shaky. Weak, almost. That was strange. Even absorbing too much energy from those inside the building had never had that effect on him before. Why would it do so now? Maybe he was hungry. He hadn't had anything to eat all day, he'd been too overhyped to even take a bite. Or maybe it was lack of sleep? It _was_ stupid o'clock and sensible people were tucked up and snoozing by now. He couldn't put his finger on what it was but he couldn't give into it either.

The night was just about to begin. It would start with a bang. Where it went after that, only time would tell.

~xXx~

Kim was as calm and emotionless as she could be as she walked into Stopford House. She knew that this was the most important thing that she'd ever had to do. No suspicion could be raised. If anyone thought for a moment that she was about to head up onto the roof to follow in Sam Tyler's very flat footsteps then they'd be restraining her and sending her off in the back of a padded van before you could say _'Keats's basement'._

She swallowed and blinked, her expression neutral. The gentleman at reception stared at her, waiting for her to flash her ID and like a robot she did so. There was no smile, no greeting, nothing, She had no use for words. There was nothing that she wanted to say. She didn't know any of those people. She didn't want her last words to be to a bunch of strangers. Unfortunately the sergeant had other ideas.

"You've come a long way, Ma'am," he said.

Kim took a deep breath. _If only he knew._

"On the tail of a bunch of armed idiots raiding bars and clubs," she said.

"The Taurus Bar," The sergeant seemed to make the connection.

Kim nodded.

"That's right."

The sergeant nodded back.

"Nice to have you on board," he said, before glancing around to make sure no one was listening before he added, "you are… who I _think_ you are, right?"

Kim frowned.

"Who do you think I am?" she asked.

The sergeant glanced around again.

"You've been working to keep that Bearded freak silent," he said.

Kim swallowed. She'd forgotten all about Evan. Without her around there would be no way to stop him releasing that book. She closed her eyes for a moment. That was one of the things she would just have to entrust the universe to solve on its own.

"I am," she said.

The sergeant nodded.

"DCI Tyler was a well-liked and respected man in this station," he said, "that book would make him look like a crazy man."

Kim looked down for a moment as her stomach seemed to drop right out of her body. That's how people were going to see her too, wasn't it? It sickened her to think of what the world would say when she had gone. But she couldn't think about that now.

"I'm… glad to have your support," she said awkwardly as the sergeant stood back to allow her thorough.

Her pulse was quickening. Her heart started to speed up. Every step that she took now took her a step closer to the end. Or, to the beginning depending on how you looked upon it.

She reached the bottom of the staircase and prepared to ascend. The tears began as she took the very first step. She couldn't imagine that they would ever cease.

~xXx~

Jake stared at his watch and pulled his shirt together. It was late and getting later, and he was getting colder with every second but he didn't want to do it back up in case Robin returned. How long had it been now?

"Shit, fifteen minutes," Jake mumbled as he lowered his head and huffed out a sigh.

_So much for five minutes, Robin_, he thought to himself.

What was he even _doing_ there? This was so unlike him. He rarely even kissed someone in a club, let alone let someone start undressing him in the middle of his place of work. Was it the alcohol doing a number on his brain or was there something about Robin that had brought out a different side to him?

Shit, what would _Marci_ say if she could see him now? _She_ was always the one with the tales to tell of where she ended up after a night out. He almost wished that he'd be the one with the story for once; a story that ended in a way _other_ than _"And then I sat in bed, checking my paperwork."_

He tried to block out of his head the complications; the absent fiancée, the jealous ex, relationships in the workplace, the list went on. He tried to do the one thing he never did and just think about 'tonight'.

He looked at his watch again. '_Tonight'_ was moving on apace and Robin wasn't back yet. Was he just going to sit around waiting forever? That was stupid. He needed to just chalk this one up to experience, get his shirt buttoned up, get out of that dingy room and go home.

He felt himself blushing as he stared at the chair in front of him and pictured Robin sitting there with his shirt unbuttoned and his emerging pecs on display again.

"Maybe I'll just give him five more minutes," Jake mumbled to himself.

~xXx~

Robin growled as he realised how much time had passed and the dog was still not on the end of a lead.

_He'll never wait for me now,_ he admonished himself for leaving Jake half-undressed in the staff break room. It wasn't the first time he'd told him to wait somewhere and never come back. The way things were going he wasn't going to make it back to Jake any time soon. In fact, the conservatives would be back in power before he finally got to see him again.

"Right," he said over the cacophony of barks, yelps and growls, "this time we'll try from the same side of the room and back it into the corner.

"It's so over-excited it might just jump over our heads," Shaz said, only half sarcastically.

"You take the left, I'll take the right," Robin told her and Shaz rolled her eyes but conceded.

"It wasn't as though I liked the uniform anyway," she commented, her blouse full of slobber and rips.

"On the count of three," Robin said as he took his position, "one… two…" Just then the dog turned and came bounding toward them, causing their eyes to bolt. "_Oh fuck it, let's just grab the thing!"_

They ran toward it and two pairs of gloved arms grasped for it. Shaz managed to grab the side of its collar this time but the dog had enough momentum to carry on moving and Shaz found herself dragged to the floor instead where she clashed heads with Robin.

Screaming and clutching their skulls, they cursed the day that the canine division opened.

"_That's it,"_ cried Robin, "I'm out if ideas."

"_Woof!"_

There was one bark… a lone bark that sounded above the rest. It was a gentler noise; less heated, not like the angered canines barking at the random dog and they looked behind them to see another stray in the doorway.

"_Now_ what's happening?" Shaz was starting to regret her promotion.

The crazed dog caught sight of the newcomer and seemed to hesitate. It stops its manic charging and stood in the middle of the room, tongue lolling and salivating wildly.

_"Woof!"_ the newcomer barked again, panting and almost smiling.

The no-longer crazed dog dropped something at its feet. It looked like part of a torch of some kind, the kind that might sustain a real flame, but it was too badly mauled to know for certain.

"OK, I had even more to drink than I thought," Robin held up his palms, "this is too weird. This _has_ to be a drunken hallucination."

"No, sir, it's really happening" Shaz assured him but she looked every bit as bewildered as he was.

The doggy newcomer stood and stared. It looked Robin right in the eye and for a moment it felt like the world slowed right down. There was an instinct that kicked in; like a knowledge in the back of Robin's mind. The dog was more than familiar. He squinted as though he might be seeing things and stared at her as she began to trot toward him, her tail wagging.

Robin didn't even notice as Shaz attached the lead and a muzzle to the now tamed first stray, nor did he hear as she mused about how this could ever have happened because something else had complete and total command of his attention.

A dark deep pair of doggy eyes stared into his and the canine newbie licked his face. The moment that she started to whine and nuzzle against his cheek he knew for certain he wasn't seeing things. It wasn't a hallucination. It was true.

"_Cassandra,"_ he breathed.

~xXx~

She took the stairs all the way to the top.

Taking the lift seemed… well, it wouldn't have been right, It would have been over too quickly and she needed time. She needed headspace. She knew that she had to do it but her mind was still churning up all her thoughts.

With every step Kim took she felt the tears growing more insistent in her eyes. She was constantly wiping at them to stop them from overflowing but it didn't seem to do a lot of good because eventually they began to stream down her face unstoppably and she had no choice but to let them.

It was late, it was quiet and the stairs were almost deserted. No one would see.

Her heart was beating hard and making its presence known so blatantly inside her chest that there didn't seem to be any room for her lungs to expand and take in enough oxygen. Every breath felt too short. Her chest felt tight, _Shit_, she could feel herself heading towards a panic attack. She tried very hard to fight it and concentrated on each and every breath, making it deep and slow. She began to time her breaths with her steps. Her long, slow trek to the top to the building passed in silence, other than her pulse ringing in her ears.

"I was expecting the song," she whispered as she arrived on the top floor and sought the staircase to the roof. And she really _had_ been. _Bigger Than Us_ had haunted her and Robin on so many occasions that it was almost conspicuous by its absence.

Perhaps, she realised, this was because the journey was her choice this time. She had a job to do. She wasn't being snatched from the real world and thrown into another. She was making that leap for herself.

There it was. _Roof Exit: Use In Case Of Fire Only_. That was the door that she needed to pass through to pass over. Her hand came to rest on the bar and she felt its smoothness against her fingers. Every sensation she felt now she was feeling for the last time. Every sense in fact. Touch, sight, sound…

The sound of a deafening alarm.

"_Fuck_!" she cried as pushing the door set off alerts all over the building that a fire was in progress. _Shit, shit, shit._ How was she supposed to make it now?

She had to do it fast. There was no more dragging her feet. No taking her time.

It was time to take that leap.

~xXx~

_Last few minutes._

_It's coming._

_I'm almost there._

Keats stared out of the window of the car. His limbs were more or less under control by now. It had taken a while but he'd got there. Now it was only his anxiety that was causing him to tremble. He hadn't expected the final moments to feel so daunting. He'd been building up to this and he was about to take everything he ever wanted, but _something_….

Something was nagging away at the back of his mind.

Keats shook his head to stop thinking about it.

Minutes left became seconds remaining.

~xXx~

"What are we doing?" Eddie asked as Marci pulled him into the interview room.

"I'm grilling you," she told him, "to make sure that you don't have any hidden crimes to confess before tomorrow night."

She sat on the table and held his hands.

"Crimes?" he repeated.

"Against dating," Marci smiled.

Eddie froze.

"Oh shit, I'm buggered," he flinched.

Marci laughed gently as she dragged him a little closer.

"Where were you on the night of DCI Hunt's welcome back party?" she questioned.

"I'm _definitely_ buggered," Eddie told her.

"Just answer the question," Marci said firmly.

"What, I don't get _good cop Marci?"_ Eddie demanded.

"I'm conducting this interview on my own, I have to be the good cop _and_ the bad cop," Marci told him.

"Can't you begin with good Cop?" Eddie pleased.

"No, she comes later," Marci told him.

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

"She does, does she?"

"Answer the question, Mister Ashworth."

Eddie cringed.

"I was attending the party," he said.

"And afterwards?"

Eddie cleared his throat.

"DCI Hunt insisted that several of us accompany him and his blue eyeliner to a local club," he said.

Marci tried to keep a straight face but it wasn't happening.

"And," she continued, "how would you describe your levels of sobriety at said club?"

Eddie closed his eyes.

"non-existent," he said.

Marci nodded.

"I see." She paused, "and after leaving the club, where did you go?"

Eddie hung his head.

"I spent the night with a very nice young lady," he said.

"And in the morning," Marci tried not to giggle, "did you remove all items of clothing from her property?"

"No," mumbled Eddie.

"I can't hear you, sir, could you speak up for the tape?"

Eddie shook his head, trying not to laugh.

"_Please_ don't make me talk about the underpants," he said.

"Would you rather talk about your self-portrait?" Marci asked.

"I'd rather talk about how you're too nice to keep torturing me and are going to let me off with a caution," Eddie said hopefully.

Marci got to her feet and pulled him closer until she felt his body pressed right up against hers. With a smile she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked him in the eye.

"Well," she said, "in light of your recent good behaviour I may be able to turn a blind eye this time," she told him.

"That's very kind of you," Eddie felt his cheeks burning up as he looked into her eyes.

Marci's tongue ran around her lips.

"Just one fine to pay," she whispered as she tilted up her head and slowly pressed her lips against his. It had taken a day of intense co-operation for them both to get over the difficulties that stemmed from a less than positive introduction and a very unwise night together but there was something just starting to bloom.

Eddie closed his eyes and lost himself to the moment as their kiss deepened. Their previous night may have fizzled out in regret and disappointment. This one was going to go with a bang.

~xXx~

Robin could barely see for tears as he stroked Cassandra's soft, sleek fur and listened to her whimper as she rubbed her nose against him and planted a big, slobbery doggy kiss against his cheek with her tongue.

"_Hey girl… hey girl,"_ he whispered, closing his eyes and putting his arms around her. The last time he'd seen her there had been blood trickling over her beautiful fur as Nailer's bullet robbed her of her life. Did Gene's world work for police dogs too? It wasn't that much of a stretch of the imagination, he supposed. She was a copper… just because she had 4 feet instead of 2 didn't mean that her life wasn't taken from her too soon. "Were you waiting for me to get here?" he whispered. The canine department had been established a little while. It seemed more than coincidence that she had arrived the day that Robin had received approval to double the remit of the division.

"Who is she?" Shaz's voice brought Robin back to reality and he realised how strange it must have looked from the outside. He wipe his eye and whispered,

"This is Cassandra. She was my dog before I took a promotion, and she –" he froze. He couldn't exactly say that she died, "she ran away.. a long time ago." He stared at her, barely believing she was there, "somehow she must have… have found her way back."

Shaz wanted to ask how she'd managed to find her way into the canine division in the first place, especially since the official line on Robin had been that he'd retransferred from Manchester and she could only assume that Cassandra had found her way down from Manchester too. There was already too much that was weird about the night. She decided just to concentrate on the heart-warming scene in front of her as Cassandra licked Robin around the face again and made him laugh and cry at the same time.

"She's very pleased to see you, sir," she said.

"Feeling's mutual," Robin said, trying to wipe away some of the drool from his face as he examined her all over. She seemed perfect; flawless. No bullet wound. The way that the transition to the world could heal amazed Robin. He looked at her collar. "Where's your tag, Cassie?" he asked her, "Hmm? Did you lose it?"

Cassandra barked and panted happily at Robin.

"She's a contented one, isn't she?" Shaz commented with a smile.

Robin glanced at Shaz and saw the friendly look on her face. He felt so guilty all of a sudden for the way he treated her. It wasn't as though he was unkind or rude but he struggled so much with his discomfort and jealousy that he kept her at arm's length and never even allowed himself to get to know her. He realised that part of that was the fact that he didn't want to hear her talk about Kim. He didn't think he could bear that, if they became friends and one day she confided about the lost love of her life. He bowed his head a little. Cassandra's arrival was sparking all kinds of emotions.

"Shaz," he whispered, "I need you to do something for me," he watched her stroking the intruder, "first of all, get the other guy locked in one of the kennels. He'll be fine until morning."

"Then what?" Shaz asked.

"Then," Robin said quietly, "can you please deliver a message for me?" he took a deep breath. "Go to CID. Tell Simon…" he closed his eyes. "Tell him I'm so sorry." He meant about more than just the black eye.

Shaz nodded.

"I'll just put our guest away," she said as she got to her feet and began to lead the dog to an empty kennel, "and then I'll head straight up."

"Thank you," Robin said quietly.

Shaz guided the now calm and docile dog toward an empty kennel.

"How did you manage to burst in here anyway," she checked his tag, "Iggy? Are you a part of the criminal underworld?"

"Claws shaped like lock picks," Robin suggested, then smiled as Cassandra began to nuzzle him again.

Shaz saw the dog safely into a kennel and then walked to the door. She looked back and smiled at the reunion. It was the first time she'd seen Robin smile since the day he arrived.

~xXx~

"So," Gene began as Alex sank the last of her wine, "this _New Labour New Bollocks_."

Alex looked at him suspiciously, wondering what question he was about to ask now.

"Yes?"

Gene stared at his glass.

"Any tax breaks for married couples in the pipeline?"

Alex gave a slightly rionic laugh that sounded particularly nasally through her closed lips.

"I wouldn't know, Gene, I was a single mother by this point, Tony Blair himself had more idea where my husband was than I did."

"That's a shame," Gene commented. He reached forward and took the glass from Alex's hand, sat it down then reached for her finger. He twirled her engagement ring around and around her finger, looking at it seriously much to her confusion until he finally said, "We could wait for the budget to see. Or we could just put it on the calendar and hope for the best."

Alex hesitated.

"Put what on the calendar?" she asked.

Gene stared at the calendar on the wall.

"It's the first of May now," he said, "how long d'you need to choose a meringue?"

"A what?"

"A bloody _wedding_ dress," Gene rolled his eyes, "for someone with more brains than underwear you can be flaming slow on the uptake sometimes, woman!"

Alex found herself biting her lip, not wanting to make assumptions in case they were wrong.

"Well, Guv," she said, her toe scuffing around nervously on the floor, "I think I'm a little beyond the meringue stage. But I'm fairly sure that a… nice, tasteful wedding dress that does not have the appearance of being constructed from egg whites can be acquired within a fairly short timeframe."

Gene nodded.

"Of course, I'll need a few months to train up Shoebury. Give him best man lessons. Not having some bloody nerd-themed stag night where we all go out with 'H's on our 'eads asking people to smoke us kippers for breakfast."

Alex felt her mouth starting to twitch into a smile.

"And," she began, "in the absence of a close female friend, I suppose it might take me a few months to persuade Robin to be a bridesmaid… "

"He's got the eyeliner, he's halfway there," said Gene. He stared at his glass and threw the rest of his wine down his neck, sat the glass down on the desk, picked up a pen and strode to the year planner on the wall. He scanned the dates, thought for a moment, then circled Saturday 1st November and glanced back to Alex. "Six months sound alright to you?"

Alex tried hard to keep the grin under control that threatened to take over her face.

"Perfect," she whispered.

Gene nodded and grunted gruffly, then he turned to the rest of the office.

"Alright, listen.," he began, "It's two in the morning and Tony Blair is almost officially the grin that rules the land. Nothing's happened, no one's spontaneously combusted and no one's fled the country in fear of a blasted Labour government. Sink your drinks and bugger off home. Get some sleep and prepare for a brave new world." He glanced at Alex. "And keep the first of November free if you're interested in free booze and laughing at me in a penguin suit."

Alex gave up fighting the grin. Nor did she pay any attention to Gene threatening that he would take severe action if she did what he thought she was about to do. She shook her head, smiled and cupped his face in her hands, pulling him forward for a very sloppy kiss in full view of the very people who would never let Gene forget it.

"_Waaaaay-heeeeeey_!" the cry from Terry and Bammo earned them the finger and made Alex laugh as she drew back and looked with amusement at the fierce expression Gene was attempting to keep on his face.

"There will be none of that in the office when we're married," he told her.

"Oh really?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

Gene nodded.

"It'll be the stationery cupboard or nothing," he told her severely.

Alex smiled and shook her head.

"I promise you one thing, Gene Hunt," she told him, "Tony Blair will only have the _second_ biggest grin in England when I'm through with you."

Gene glared his throat and tried to hide his response to her promise with a pile of paperwork.

"I suspect, Lady Bollingerkickers, that you might be right," he said.

~xXx~

"_Five."_

The word left her lips and travelled on the breeze like seeds from a dandelion clock. She rocked back and forth from the tips of her toes onto the thick, heavy heels of her boots. She had never been afraid of heights and never before had she been so grateful. A terrible situation could have been so much worse.

_I'll do this in my own time,_ she thought to herself, _I will not be hurried. I will not rush._

She breathed right in and felt her chest expand. When her lungs were as full as they were ever going to be she held her breath, just because she could. She looked out over Manchester; the amazing view that greeted her was the last thing that she would ever see. It felt poetic. The lights, the misted moon in the sky, the busy city that had welcomed her for her strange goodbye.

Very slowly she breathed right out. As she let go of the breath in her lungs she listened to the sound of the fire alarms shrieking and heard the swell of voices down below as the few officers and detectives on site assembled in the car park. She closed her eyes to them. They had no place being there to watch her final moments but there was nothing she could do about that now. She hoped that what they were about to see would not scar them the way she feared it might. She breathed in once again, concentrating in that sensation. It grounded her. It kept her focused. She knew what she had to do.

~X~

_4_

The red, angry digit on the display flipped over like a lazy alarm clock that didn't want to tell more than seconds of the time. Numbers were such innocent things. They were everywhere. You couldn't move for them. But every now and then there was a number that carried with it a deeper, darker meaning and this number knew it was squarely placed in that category.

It wasn't alone either. It was in the middle of three evenly spaced number 4s. Its clones were elsewhere, one either side of it, across in each side of the building. _Synchronised numbers._ It was almost poetic. Like digit ballet, maybe.

The faint glow of red finally caught Eddie's eye as his hands moved from Marci's back to her bottom. He let go of her quite unexpectedly to a mumbled '_Hey'_ of annoyance.

Eddie had never expected that a number 4 would tear his hands away from touching some beautiful girl's fantastic figure.

He also never thought it would be the single scariest sight he would see in his life.

~X~

"_Three,"_ she whispered as the air around her proved chillier. The wind was beginning to pick up a little now and she shivered. _This was it; _the time was almost upon her. She pressed one hand to her chest and felt the speed of her heart beating. It felt amazing; that one sensation that meant she was still alive. Soon it would cease beating in this world and begin in another.

"_There's someone on the roof!"_

_Fuck._

She supposed someone would notice sooner or later. She still had time but knew that she would have to speed up her countdown.

"_It's Sam Tyler's ghost!"_ she heard someone cry, followed by,

"_No, that looks like a woman."_

"_Samantha Tyler then?"_

Kim shook her head and ignored the voices. She closed her eyes, took in a very deep breath and spread her arms like a bird.

"_I'm not afraid,"_ she whispered. She meant it too.

~X~

_2_

The number glared red.

Marci had never heard her name screamed with such fear before. Never had she heard anyone call her with such panic in their voice, not had she seen anyone turn to her with terror in their eyes to match the way that Eddie looked as he faced her. She tried to ask a question, to ask what was happening or whether he'd taken leave of his senses but there wasn't time because he was launching himself towards her faster than she ever seen him move, even the time they had half-price novelty mugs at _Latte Land_. The sight of his expression scared her, but not as much as the sight of the number had scared him.

The force of his hands striking her pushed her away before she even knew what was happening. Her brain couldn't tie up the connection between the eerie red glow, Eddie's pained scream of her name and the motion of flying through the air. Nothing made sense. She couldn't understand why she was flying out of the doorway, nor why Eddie yelled in horror as he tripped on the leg of a desk and crashed to the floor before he could follow.

In his eyes she saw true terror for the first time in her life.

The glow of red merely flipped to another number.

~X~

"_One."_

So much shouting now, so many people calling to her. She couldn't make out a word but she could guess. None of them knew, none of them understood.

There were no visions. No cries from the other wold, no songs blasting out to warn her that the other side was near. There were none of them, because this was _Kim's_ decision. This was Kim's choice. It was one that she alone had to make.

Her eyes closed tightly as moments and memories passed through her mind. The happy times, the sad times, the days she felt most alive. The people she had known, the places she'd been. The faces she would never see again, the ones that she was on the edge of finding once more. The people who had made her smile and made her life worthwhile. Those who had made her cry and scream. The moments from her life that brought her pain. _And the ones_, she felt a tear roll down her cheek as she felt for her engagement ring with her thumb, _that have brought me the most happiness._

There was a voice behind her now. Someone had made it to the roof. She opened her eyes and glanced behind her where some kind of negotiator had been rustled up from the skeleton crew that remained at the station that night. She gave an involuntary laugh at his fraught, panicked expression and she hoped that she wasn't going to scar the poor chap for life, his glasses hanging half off his face and his scarf blowing in his eyes. _What a tool._

She turned back to the car park in front of her. Very slowly a tiny smile of determination crossed her face. In that moment she had never felt so strong inside.

As she took in a deep breath she mentally said goodbye. It was time to become like they were.

One final word fell from her lips.

"_Zero."_

~X~

_0_

It was the brightest, it was the loudest, it was the most powerful and vibrant thing that Keats had ever witnessed. Three separate locations, almost at the same moment, the main one at the centre of the building and one at either side; the three blasts that danced with flame in unison like synchronised swimmers of fire in the air.

It make Keats jump a little at first as it finally came but as soon as he realised that his plan had come to fruition and his goals fulfilled a feeling of extreme elation filled his body from head to toe.

"_Yes!"_ he cried out, a mocking laugh flowing from somewhere deep inside, "Oh _yes_, this is beautiful!" He whipped his glasses from his face and left them on the dashboard to take in the full view of the damage and devastation. He wanted no barrier between him and it. In fact, it was time, he decided to leave the car and 'offer his services' to the poor, crumbling station.

He flinched as something throbbed. He placed one hand to his chest. What the fuck was that? Indigestion?

The searing pain that followed made him gasp out loud and cry out with a swelling agony that he couldn't understand and couldn't explain. He clutched his chest – what was this? A heart attack? But quite soon the pain spread to his head, like his mind was being torn in two. He clutched his forehead and cried out, desperate for the pain to stop. It had come out of nowhere. What the fuck _was_ it? It felt like he was being torn in two. Like his soul was being split right down the middle and his body was suffering the result.

As it slowly began to fade he found himself shaking, his breathing at high speed and his heart pounding. He sat there in the car, flame still dancing in the background, holding his chest as though terrified that his ribcage was about to fall apart.

Almost as quickly as it had started, it ended. He felt fine once again, just a little shaky and pretty damn confused. He swallowed as he tried to regroup. Whatever had happened he needed to forget it. He had work to do and couldn't be distracted.

The night was still his.

It was time to take the first steps towards taking what he desired from the ashes.

~X~

It was funny, but after she made the jump she didn't remember falling. She didn't remember the sensation of the air whizzing past her or the people screaming below. She didn't remember the moment of impact or the pain as her bones snapped within the loose frame of skin that had barely held her together for months. She felt not the blood that seeped from her nose and ear as it pooled around her body.

She remembered taking a leap of faith.

And then realising her feet were already on the ground.

Very slowly she opened her eyes. It was dark with nothing but a few streetlights and security lights around the car park to illuminate the way. She looked around her, a chill wind bringing a shudder through her body as she pulled her jacket around her.

She looked down and ran her fingers along the waves of material that covered her body, from the straight cut charcoal jacket to the low-cut animal print top and the simple dark jeans that covered her scrawny legs. Her hand reached up slowly to her head where, from what she could see in the reflection from the car window, there were streaks of at least two different colours on one side of her bleach-blonde crop. Around her eyes were circles of dark makeup and her lips were coated with a shade of red she'd rather die than be seen wearing.

_Shit_. She already _had_ died, of course.

"I'm like a walking advert for girl power," she mumbled as she realised how cold her toes felt. Looking down her feet were bare, standing on the rough tarmac. She gave a frown and looked around her where, to one side, she spotted what she was looking for and gave the deepest sigh of relief.

Slowly, carefully she pointed her toes and slipped her left foot into one big, clunky black boot, zipping it up carefully, trying not to disturb any of the buckles before she lifted the second one and did the same with her right foot.

_Now_ she felt dressed.

_Now_ she felt ready.

In the reflection of the car window she stared at herself and drew in a very deep breath. Pressing one hand to her chest she felt her heart beating. Very slowly she breathed out again, felt her lungs deflate. She was dead, and yet here she was, alive.

Her trembling had reached into her pocket and slipped from within it her arrest warrant and ID. With a moment's hesitation she flipped it open and cast her eyes over it. She swallowed. She nodded firmly and closed her eyes.

As she put it back in her pocket and breathed in deeply she realised that she wasn't shaking any longer. This wasn't the time to give in to her fear. People needed her. A world needed her. She couldn't let them down.

She stared at her reflection one last time. It stared right back.

"_It's time,"_ she whispered, _"to fuck shit up."_

**The End… To Be Continued**

**~xXx~**

**A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading…. The epilogue will be up tomorrow.**


	33. Epilogue: Friend On The Outside

**Epilogue**

Beard Model Evan White studied his reflection in the mirror as the make-up artist finished her work. He nodded in approval at the results. It had been a long, hard road but finally he was back at the top of his game. In the aftermath of the whole _Olympic Torch, Beard Of Fire_ scenario he had sued everyone he could think of connected with the Olympics. Boris Johnson. Sebastian Coe. At one point he went after as many gold medal winners as he could find. Team GB were running for more than medals, they were running for their lives too.

But in the end all had turned out well. Evan became the first man to undergo a full beard-graft and now once again had a magnificent and fully functioning beard to attract the attention he craved. And of course his _other_ main problem had ceased to be an issue the moment she took a walk over the edge of Stopford House.

"This press conference is scheduled to run until three," his agent said as she jabbed away on her iPad, "then you've got the signing at Waterstones' until they close at half past five, and then it's over to the BBC for your guest spot on _Watchdog_, exposing shoddy razor production, and finally Jeremy Paxman will be handling your interview on _Newsnight_." She put down the tablet and looked at at him. "And then tomorrow you're filming your segments for _Stopford House: Where Did IT All Go Wrong?"_

Evan sighed and leaned back in his chair, the pressures of having a best-selling book starting to make themselves known. It wasn't as though he hadn't found success already with his two autobiographies… three if you counted his post-prison memoirs serialised in the Daily Mail. And then there were the film studios fighting it out for the rights to _Fifty Shades of Beard._ But it was Alex's book that has really brought him the literary recognition he craved.

What had started with Alex's half-finished draft had become something very different. After discovering the part of the book that Alex had already completed and her additional notes on Sam Tyler's suicide he took them straight to his publisher who felt there was a winning book to come out of it. The concept had genuinely started for Evan as a way to remember Alex and to make up for all the ways that he had let her down. Having her book published posthumously was a way to pay tribute to her memory. But after his early release from prison his finances were not as healthy as they could have been, and quickly his plan to put the profits into a trust fund for Molly turned into a way to line his own pockets. By completing the second half of the book himself Evan could take the lion's share of the profits with no issue, no questions asked.

He completed the book by writing about Alex's shooting and her two comas. He focused on the fact that one of the names that appeared in Sam Tyler's notes and tapes was also the name of the man she had asked for when she awoke from her first coma and happened to also be the name of the 'unknown PC' discovered at Farringfield Green. Evan threw out a lot of pointless theories, none of which were anywhere close to the truth, but he still needed a conclusion to the book. He'd been trying to persuade Kim, as Alex's last surviving friend, to write one for him but not only had she refused she had also done all that she could to prevent the book from going to publication.

Evan smirked a little as he thought about the irony of Kim's plunge adding the conclusion to the book by itself. The last chapter practically wrote itself as the tragic story of the woman whose losses had pushed her to the edge.

"Mister White?" A young woman wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard peered around the door.

"Yes?"

"They're ready for you now."

With a sigh Evan got to his feet, untucked the protective sheet from around his neck and straightened out his suit. He stared at his reflection and tried to ignore the added wrinkles that prison, the loss one goddaughter and separation from another had brought to his face. He didn't even think about Molly any more. He couldn't. It was too painful to think about the way their relationship had deteriorated after his arrest and the truth coming out about Alex's shooting. That girl had lived with him for almost three years and now she wouldn't even answer his calls. In fact the last time they'd spoken was when she'd become stranded twenty miles out of London after drinking heavily at a friend's birthday that went wrong and didn't want her foster mother to know.

In fact Evan could tell, even from their sparse contact, how badly his goddaughter's behaviour had deteriorated since Kim's plunge. It was as though Kim had been her last connection witht Alex and Molly couldn't cope with losing that. She was turning into a little Kim clone in her own right, all piercings and clunky boots. She'd even tried to get a tattoo with fake ID.

But Evan tried to block it from his mind beause Molly wasn't talking to him anyway, so there was nothing that he could do. And it didn't do to dwell upon it too much because it only added more wrinkles to that brow. And his face was his passport to success.

"I'm coming," he said as he followed the woman from the room and prepared to take the stage.

A hundred members if the press awaited his official word on the book that had taken the country by storm. '_Jump They Say'_ had brought Evan recognition beyond the realm of beard fans, and brought knowledge of the name Gene Hunt to a world that had no place knowing it.

~xXx~

"_Mister White, is it true that your official Tumblr, fuckyeahevanwhite, made Tumblr crash within the first hour of going live?_

"_Mister White, how do you keep your beard so silky and smooth?"_

"_Mister White, is there any truth to the rumour that Jesus has been lined up to play you in a Hollywood adaptation of your life story?"_

Evan basked in the warm light that emanated from a hundred cameras, all focused upon his face. The bouquet of microphones before him were a welcome feature too. This was like being in the courtroom all over again, except he didn't actually do any work and there was more attention focused on his beard. This was a lifestyle he could really get into. He already _had_, if he was honest. Maybe the whole _law career _was just a stepping stone to beard greatness.

"Well," he cleared his throat and prepared to answer the question, "he _does_ seem the logical choice, being voted the second most famous man with a beard."

"Some people have said that putting you above Jesus is the first step on the ladder to the apocalypse," one reporter told him.

"I would invite those people to take a look at my beard and then tell me they still feel the same way, said Evan.

"OK, one more question," someone announced and a woman in the audience got to her feet.

"Mister White," she said, "How do you respond to allegations that it was your campaign of persuasion that helped to push DCI Stringer over the edge following her own tragic losses?"

Evan swallowed and stared at the woman.

"Kimberley Stringer had proven time and again to be unstable," he began stiffly, "I do not need, surely, to remind you of the wedgie incident. Her medical records show years of anti-depressants and tranquilisers following a coma in two thousand and three. Her family enquired about sectioning after she displayed irrational behaviour. Her record of violent tendencies, sheltering detectives on the run and tattooing police dogs should surely give you more of an indication about the kind of person Kimberley Stringer is."

"The kind of person your goddaughters both adored."

Evan froze. He looked like a cat who'd just been accidentally sprayed with a hose.

"I beg your pardon?"

The woman had done her research.

"DCI Stringer was a close friend of DI Drake, wasn't she?" the woman pointed out, "she opened up her home to give your goddaughter a place to stay and recuperate, she risked her life to help her find the man responsible for her shooting and was one of the named adults in DI Drake's care… requested, in fact, by _Molly_ Drake, am I right?"

Evan stared some more. He trembled with anger that he was barely keeping below the surface. He swallowed hard with contempt for both the woman and to the memory of Kim and the wedgie she'd delivered as he said,

"DCI Stringer formed an unhealthy bond with my goddaughter over the fact that both had experienced difficulty adjusting to life after a prolonged comatose state. And in the end, it was that unhealthy bond that saw DCI Stringer attempting to become the second Sam Tyler. I believe her fascination with Alex and the story of Sam led her to an extreme course of action." He straightened his tie anxiously. "The story of DCI Tyler is hugely compelling. I do believe that Alex's dreams while in her comatose state were influenced by those she had heard Sam Tyler speak of, and that Kimberley Stringer was a highly impressionable, weak-willed person who became so obsessed with the idea of an afterlife in the past that she became convinced that it was real and took action to experience it for herself."

"In _that_ case," the woman began quietly, "your book might be the most dangerous on sale today."

Evan felt his heart sink.

"Pardon?"

"There are a great number of desperate and impressionable people in this world, Mister White," she said quietly, "and if just one of those people latches onto this story the way you believe that DCI Stringer….. a woman who I must point out underwent rigorous mental and emotional assessment as part of her fast-track training… was impressionable enough to jump from a building to enter a fantasy life in the past then how many truly weak and desperate individuals looking for an escape from this world will read your book and do the same?"

Evan stared. He was frozen from head to toe. Every inch of him stood still. He couldn't move, He couldn't speak. He couldn't think. The woman's words had come from nowhere and caused a muttering around the room.

"And your name," he began, "young lady?"

"Kelly," she said.

"And what channel are you with, Kelly?" he asked crossly.

Kelly shook her head.

"I'm not," she said quietly.

With one last look of disapproval she turned and walked from the press conference, the rest of the crowd descending into uproar.

"Mister White, I think it's best if you leave through the side door here," one of the organisers said, herding him quickly through a doorway behind the curtain.

Feeling shaken and disturbed Evan followed him through to the back room where he tried to understand what had just taken place. Up until that point all his questions had been about beard maintenance, hints and tips for prospective beard models and whether he would cast David Mitchell to play Gene Hunt in a film adaptation of the book. All of a sudden things had _turned_.

"Are you alright?" his agent asked.

Evan wasn't exactly sure.

"I _will_ be if you can find out who that was and make sure she doesn't come within a mile of any of my future publicity appearances," he shook.

"On it already," his agent told him, poking at her iPad again.

Evan found a chair and sat down shakily. Something about the experience had left him deeply disturbed. Kim was supposed to be a footnote to a story that piqued general human interest and curiosity. Instead he'd been left feeling as though someone had just pushed him from the edge of the roof and he was hurtling towards a complete and utter disaster.

He swallowed and shook his head. It was time to forget about Kelly, whoever she was, and focus on the next part of his day. There were enough people to feel guilty over in Evan's mind; he wasn't going to open up that tally to the general public as well.

~xXx~

"I did what you told me, ma'am. I… I've waited for such a long time that it feels so weird to think I've finally said it. I guess this is how you felt when you finally took Robin that letter." she pulled a face. "The difference being that I'm not going to be hooking up with Mister White a few months down the line, I assure you." She hung her head. "I almost forgot, you know, when I came back… I had no memory of you. I blocked it all out, you see. You, what you told me, the whole world. I just… I just remembered the dark…" she hung her head. "I almost let you down. I'm sorry."

Kelly swallowed as she got to her feet. Her emotions were becoming difficult to control.

"You saved me from that place and I…" she flinched at the traumatic memories that were plaguing her, "I blocked you right out. I almost failed you. I promise that I will keep up the fight. That book might already be out there but I'm doing all I can to have it banned. We both know that it shouldn't be out there in the public domain. We both know why. The only time anyone needs to know about Gene Hunt is when they get knocked over in the street or clobbered around the head by some bastard madman."

She felt a little stupid, like she was talking to herself, so she decided to be quiet. She'd said all she had to say anyway. She mouthed goodbye and walked away, alone with her thoughts.

She would never forgive herself for almost letting Kim down but after everything she had been through on the other side of the line it was no wonder she had blocked it out. She knew that she had never truly faced it. Perhaps now, with the book's release and everything that she needed to do, it was finally time.

The moment her mind had managed to peel away the layers of dark hair and goth-like makeup from the fallen women, shot by Layton, and she realised who she would come to be, it was a revelation to Kelly and knocked her for six. She was the woman to whom she owed so much, yet Kim had no idea. And even on the other side of the line she was years away from meeting her again.

But one day –

One day.

"_I'll see you at the millennium, ma'am,"_ she whispered.

**The End**

**~xXx~**

_**A/N: This fic was originally going to have no epilogue because the sequel picks up exactly from where the end of the last chapter left off, but then beards happened :-/ The next fic is going to be fairly short; it's set over 5 hours on that night, beginning with the explosion. It's going to be very dark, I'll warn you. I know that's not everyone's flavour so if you find the darkness and themes uncomfortable but want to keep reading the series then when it is finished and I start the next I'll include a recap to make it easier to follow.**_

_**Ugh, I very nearly did not finish this fic. I very nearly deleted everything I have on FFnet during the writing of it. I've been at a very low point with writing. It's taken a really long time to get out of it. In fact, I didn't think I was going to. I am really lucky that a very special woman had ENORMOUS amounts of patience with me and stopped me from being really stupid and throwing it all away. I love you x**_

_**A very, very sincere thank you to everyone who is still following, and especially to those of you who take the time to review. I appreciate each and every one. Noemi, Sillygenie, Fenella Church, 80sBabe, Lifeinthe80s, JoinTheHunt1981, sash queen of the jungle, Purple kerrycat, sillivan and random anons; I want you to know that it means a lot to hear your thoughts, And Jessica (tumblr) and Charlotte (FB) oh my god, you two are amazing, you know that?! And most of all, Ranty, I worship at your font of terror, I will never not update again for fear of getting another instalment of *that* in my inbox *gibbers in fear***_

_**Uh, and also. Another thing. I took a challenge to write Kim fluff for reblogs on Tumblr and got 8 reblogs *wails*So if you want to see Kim actually being happy, yeah… that's a thing that's going to be happening. The intro is up on Fictionpress, the link is on my profile and my fictionpress pen name is the same as on here.**_

_**WOW THAT WAS A LONG A/N!**_

_***DIES***_


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